


Divine Right

by BastetCG



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Bisexual Dean, Blow Jobs, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Confusion, Dream Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration, F/F, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fantasy, Humor, Implied Relationships, Kink Exploration, Lost Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Magic, Middle Ages, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Power Struggle, Prince Castiel, Psychological Torture, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Sexual Manipulation, Slash, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Threesome - F/F/F, Torture, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, eventual destiel, fairy tale, prince!castiel, so many one-sided relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 45
Words: 109,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BastetCG/pseuds/BastetCG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairy Tale AU. Castiel had never wanted to be king. Dean and Sam had been content to spend their days hunting the evil creatures in the forest. When the hunters stumble upon the prince, lost and injured, they must abandon their hunt and help Castiel on his long journey home. </p><p>But Lucifer's disappearance forces his brothers to begin a search that leads Castiel right back into the forest and right back to the hunters.  And with Castiel's frightening new abilities, perhaps he should not be getting so close to the Winchesters.</p><p>Unfortunately, their quest reveals the true nature of King Crowley, and their rag-tag party of hunters, thieves, and princes falls to pieces before their eyes.  Chaos and discord follow, but Castiel and Dean are determined to take back their brothers from the dark kingdom across the forest.</p><p>Eventual Destiel with several other side pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Saturday and Sunday updates resume April 12th.
> 
> Part I Once Upon A Time- Complete  
> Part II The Cage- Complete  
> Part III Profound Bond- Complete
> 
> Between every fifteen chapter part will be a month long intermission. If you have any questions about the AU so far or anything else, please feel free to ask. Thank you for reading!

The stories always started out the same.

_Once upon a time…_

They all ended in pretty much the same way too. The brave knight ends up falling in love and _living happily ever after_. When Castiel was young, he spent a lot of time reading and re-reading that one book. _The Collection of Children’s Fairy Tales_. He knew its place on the shelves by heart and always made a beeline for it upon his arrival in the dusty brown chambers of the palace library. He reverently turned the parchment pages, gently brushing a hand over the complicated weaving patterns of illuminations that lined the margins and headed each story. Gabriel had told him that their great-great-great-aunt had painted all the illuminations in the books in the library. Castiel didn’t know how that could be possible since the library was so big and had so many books; Gabriel also had a habit of lying, although he liked to call it “creative embellishment”. But that didn’t stop Castiel’s fascination with the stories or the book itself. He loved the way the leather smelled, it’s brown cover embossed with small gold letters, and its spine expertly sewn. He remembered every detail.

Every child has a favorite book that they read over and over until it falls apart, and if Castiel had been any other child, this particular book might have met a similar fate, but little old Castiel was so unbearably reserved and cautious with every miniscule detail, the only damage that came to it was a small dog ear on page eighty-seven. The pages weren’t numbered, but Castiel had counted and memorized that page, and then he’d folded the corner with extreme care because that was his story. Out of all the passages in the book, that was his favorite. Oh, yes, the one about the princess and the frog-turned-prince was just fine, as was the one about the little girl in her riding cloak and the ever popular one with the evil step mother; but Castiel’s favorite was the one about the two princes who defeated a mighty evil in the forest, saving their respective kingdoms, and then uniting them with a marriage. He never grew tired of it. He wanted it.

He didn’t want to live in the castle. He loved his father and mother and brothers and sister with every fiber of his tiny being, but he didn’t like how cold and damp the castle was, or how empty the halls stood over him. He wanted to go out adventuring to meet new people and see the different things the world had to offer him. He didn’t want to have his entire life, from birth to death, dictated out to him like he was some mindless puppet. He didn’t want to marry the princess of the neighboring kingdom, he didn’t want to have power over his servant, he didn’t want to get up every day and sunrise for lessons and sparring and waiting for the day to be over.

When he could escape all that, he’d head directly to the library. He’d pull the giant bronze handles with all his might and slip in once the doors were open wide enough. Then he’d find his book and read. He would curl up near the enormous diamond-pained glass window on the second story and lose himself in the pages. When he finished, he’d find another leather bound world to explore, then another and another, and usually, by that time, Anael would be finished with her dance lessons. She liked to visit Castiel in the library and sit reading together in companionable silence for a few hours before supper was called in the main hall. Every day for at least eight years, Castiel would break their space and sit in her lap.

“Same story today, Castiel?” she would ask. He’d only nod, afraid that his voice might ruin his chances. He knew it must be aggravating to read the same thing each day, but he couldn’t help himself. But Anael never complained, in fact more often than not, she’d smile and flip to page eighty-seven with no hint of frustration.

“Alright, let’s see…” she cleared her throat, “The Knights of the Forest…

_…Once upon a time…”_


	2. Between Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Frickin’ nobles man, over the top with their stupid-ass drama. Well, now that he’s passed out, think you can break it without killing him?” Dean said as he reached to hold the man’s weight better.
> 
> “Yeah, should be easy.” Sam gingerly took ahold of the blade and the man, James, grunted in protest, eyes scrunched up even though he was not awake.
> 
> “Shut up you, big baby,” Dean reprimanded the unconscious man.

They were closing in on it. There was no way this piece of shit was going to get away this time. It had eluded them for three months, each time just barely slipping through their fingers. Baby’s hooves pounded ferociously against the fallen twigs and leaves, not caring about the thumps and cracks that followed. Dean had his sword drawn and ready, other hand gripping Baby’s reins tightly. Sam rode beside him, reaching carefully for his crossbow which hung on his back. This was it; they’d kill this thing before it could kill anyone else. Dean could almost see it as it got sucked further and further into the woods.

“Dean!,” Sam shouted, “It’s headed for the border!”  
“You think I don’t know that, Sammy?” He flicked Baby’s reins with a “Yah!” for good measure and she snorted and ducked her head in renewed effort. Soon they were far ahead of Sam and his horse, Ford.  
“Dammit Dean, wait up! You can’t take that thing on alone!”  
“Then try and catch me Sammy-boy!” Dean smiled to himself as he hunched down and concentrated. Trees whizzed past on both sides, the lower branches catching and breaking on Dean’s armor. He could still hear Sam behind him, frantically urging Ford on, but no horse, living or dead could beat his Baby, and that was a fact.

Dean was just glad that he’d finally get to slice the metaphorical head off this nasty-ass son of a bitch once they caught it. It’d killed three people in the last week as it moved from the Kingdom of Dema, through the woods, and towards the Celeta gates. In total, it had gotten to about seven people in its six month journey. It had taken a month for Sam to identify the creature from witness reports, a month to track it down, and now after four long months of chasing, they were about to finally get it!  
An arrow whizzed past his head and struck a tree just behind the creature. Sam cursed and began shuffling around in his quiver for another. The forest had turned into one green blur of adrenaline and anticipation. Dean was almost close enough to take a stab at the creature, he buried his heels into Baby’s sides and she charged forward.

Because if they caught this one and somehow managed to get it take on a human shape, because they knew these nasty pieces of work could do that somehow, they could interrogate, and then maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to find the one that took their mother, their father, and their childhood from them. Another arrow flew past and landed on its target, or rather, it passed through it; the creature hissed and continued its mad sprawl towards the Kingdom of Celeta. Dean brought his arm up, ready to strike it, just…just a little closer!  
“C’mon! C’mon, Baby!” Dean brought his arm down at the exact moment Baby decided to spook. She snorted and whinnied and stopped so quickly she tripped over her own hooves. Luckily for Dean, the sudden stop threw him, and he was well out of her way as she tumbled and rolled on herself. Ford and Sam skidded to a halt a few seconds later, just as Baby was standing up again.

“Shit!” Dean stood shakily and limped over to his sword, which landed a good ten meters away. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!”  
“What the hell happened?” Sam dismounted and patted Ford before examining their surroundings. Normally that was Dean’s job, but he was too busy checking Baby over for any injuries to be bothered. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong with her, but she still kept shifting nervously back and forth on her hooves.  
“Don’t know. She just got spooked real bad and threw me. And shit! Now that thing’s gonna make it to Celeta gates before we can kill it. Damn it, that’s gonna be messy.”  
“You’re telling me. But hey at least we’ll get to see Missouri again?” And there Sam was, trying to put a positive spin on it. Dean rolled his eyes and shifted his pauldron so it sat on his shoulder better.  
“Don’t pull that. You know she’ll have my nuts in a freaking skillet once she realizes we let it get into the city. If anything, we’re going to see Pam.” Baby whined loudly and started to rear before Dean managed to calm her just a little more.

“Oh no, if we go see Pam, you two will just end up making dirty jokes and sleeping all day.” Sam said with a marked sound of disgust.  
“Yeah,” Dean agreed sarcastically, “sleeping.”  
“Aw, Dean!” Sam grimaced.  
“What? It’s not like I’m keeping you from chasing a little tale. Plus, Pam won’t be angry when we tell her it escaped. That’s what I’m more concerned about.” It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.  
“Whatever. What’s with Baby? She still seems unsettled.” He brushed a gloved hand over the black horse’s neck, and she huffed uncomfortably, eyes darting.

“I don’t know. I’m not getting any weird vibes, are you?”  
“Give me a second.” Sam closed his eyes and exhaled. Dean could practically see his brother’s soul seeping out of his body, searching the surrounding area. Suddenly the light around Sam’s head retreated and Sam blinked back into reality. “It’s nothing threatening, I think.”  
“You think?” Dean inquired incredulously. He took a more offensive stance and looked around the forest. The sun was just starting to set and the air was growing chilly. Dean sniffed and took a step closer to Baby.  
“It felt like a-” Sam stopped as a low moan filled the space between the trees. “Dean,” he said in a whisper, “isn’t this near where we left one of those traps a month ago?”  
“Yeah, I think so.” They spoke in low tones, ears perked for anything that might tell them where the moan had come from. Sam cautiously stepped back towards Ford and pulled a piece of parchment from one of the saddle bags. He unrolled it and began tracing paths on it.  
“It’s only a few paces west.”  
“By a few do you mean, like, twenty few? Or like opposite side of the forest few?” Sam had a bad habit of understating this kind of thing, and Dean had learned his lesson the time Sam had said it would only take a few hours to track down a werewolf just outside Dema and the boys ended up chasing its tail for a month and a half. Sam rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Thirty seconds, tops. We can’t find it, we head back towards Celeta,” Sam proposed. Dean conceded and took the lead once Sam pointed him in the direction of the trap. Baby whinnied at them softly as they left the horses. A few twigs broke under Sam’s enormous weight, but other than that, the forest was silent. There were no bird crowing, or nasty squirrels chattering in the trees. Even the constant buzz of insects fell silent. Dean hated that. It meant either a predator or death; he didn’t care for either right now. The sun was almost completely gone below the horizon and Dean cursed himself for not thinking of bringing a torch. As if Sam could read his mind, he gathered some twigs and tied them together with a leather thong before lighting it with magic.  
“Seriously?” Dean hissed.  
“What?”  
“I don’t want you getting tired out by doing that, Sam. Quit it!” Sam rolled his eyes again and continued following his brother. Another moan, more of a sob really, broke the silence.

“What kind of trap was this anyway?” Dean tossed over his shoulder.  
“The map says it was blade trap.”  
“Great. Messy.” As it was, a sudden waft of blood alerted Dean to another presence. It was deep in the coolness of the oncoming night. No doubt that if the creature caught didn’t bleed out, it would die in the nightly freezes. The smell got thicker and he could hear Sam’s movements stiffen.  
“Dean, that’s human blood.”  
“What?”  
“When I searched for a presence, it felt big enough to be a human, but I wasn’t sure.”  
“Might have be a were or a shifter.”  
“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t say anything, but that is definitely human blood.”  
“Shit.” Dean dropped all defensive posture and began clumsily stomping in the direction they were headed. “Awesome, Sam, just great. What the hell is a human doing in the Between Woods?”  
“Amateur hunter?” Sam guessed, jogging to catch up with his brother. They’d stopped whispering, and now sheathed their weapons. As Dean looked up from his sword on his hip, he stopped abruptly, reaching out a hand to stop his brother.

The man was pinned to a tree, the blade stuck in his shoulder at a painful angle. The blade, combined with the force of gravity, was designed to cause hours of pain and tear ligaments to ribbons. It was genius, really. One of Dean’s better designs, but still nothing to compare to Sam’s handheld weapons. The knife attached to a long length of straight cut wood, which dovetailed into a hinge that released when the tripwire snapped. The man looked like he’d been there for about an hour, judging by the short wound just above his armpit. No permanent damage yet, but in a few hours? His arm would be useless, sliced right through. As the man stood now, it might even take less time, since he was currently passed out, weight held up by the blade.

“Oh come on!” Dean yelled to the treetops. “Can’t we get a single break? I mean, seriously? We lose our hunt because Baby smelled this asshole,” he gestured to the slumped figure pinioned to the tree, “And now we have an unconscious hoity-toity aristocrat to heal.” He passed his brown glove over his eyes and threw his sword into the earth, point first. “Alright let’s get the one percent-er down and out,” he sighed, waving a hand at the tree.  
Sam rolled his eyes and they walked forward to remove the well-dressed man from the tree. His eyes fluttered when Dean took ahold of his shoulder and he groaned miserably.

“Hey, hey,” Dean tried to get on eye level with the man, “Are you awake?” The man only squinted and coughed, then grimaced and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” Dean strained to hear him. “Sam, don’t touch the blade, he’s awake.”  
“Shit, Dean, it’s pretty far in. I’m gonna need to break it,” Sam replied when he’d finished hisinspection of the wound. The man’s eyes flew open and he began to struggle against the grain in the knife, working it farther into his shoulder.  
“Whoa, whoa there! Calm down! What’s your name?” Dean gripped his shoulder in an effort to calm him down. He made his own quick inventory of the wound and the muddy color it left on the man’s fine blue and black tunic. The man brought his arm up and weakly tried to push Dean and Sam away before convulsing in pain. “What’s your name?” Dean repeated a little more forcefully. When the man was done with his shudders, he looked back up to Dean. “We’re gonna try and get this out of you, but you gotta tell us your name.” The man panted harshly and clenched his jaw.

“James.”  
“James?” Sam asked.  
“James Emmanuel Novak.” The man’s eyes rolled back before his body fell slack against the blade again. Dean groaned and rubbed his forehead with his free hand.  
“Frickin’ nobles man, over the top with their stupid-ass drama. Well, now that he’s passed out, think you can break it without killing him?” Dean said as he reached to hold the man’s weight better.  
“Yeah, should be easy.” Sam gingerly took ahold of the blade and the man, James, grunted in protest, eyes scrunched up even though he was not awake.  
“Shut up you, big baby,” Dean chided to James. Sam closed his eyes and Dean bit his lower lip as he watched Sam’s energy flow from his head, down his arm and around the blade slowly seeping into James’s wound. Dean grimaced at the sight. A loud crack filled the silence of the dark forest, the torch from earlier extinguished and forgotten. Once that thunder peal ended, Dean looked up to see Sam grinning happily, if not wearily. A second later, he felt the full forces of James’s weight and almost stumbled in struggle.

“Here, let me-” Sam reached his arms out to try and catch some of the noble’s body, but Dean growled in protest, “No, Sammy, you’re exhausted from all the magic-makin’ you’ve been doing today. I’ve got this, I just gotta…” He heaved the man up, careful of the knife still protruding from his shoulder. Then he flipped him over and pinned James’s hips to his, carrying the poor aristocrat like he would a bundle of firewood.  
“Alright, just gotta go find Baby and Ford in this darkness and then head back to Bobby’s.” Sam chuckled at how easy Dean made it sound, but traveling with a bleeding man in the dead of night over five miles in the Between Woods was going to be rough. Especially since the brothers had been so busy chasing that one creature that they’d left their usual rounds to recuperate.

“Well, we’d better get going then,” Sam replied. So the two set off, one stumbling into trees from exhaustion, the other with an almost-dead man hanging from his arm.


	3. Prince Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was daunting and ominous and Castiel had wanted to spend his day researching the well behind the castle and reading about King Raphael. He had wanted to sleep in and eat breakfast late with Gabriel. He’d wanted to listen to Aneal sing after supper and visit his father after coffee. But because his brothers couldn’t think rationally, he was now on the run from his own family. The only thing keeping him from getting an ax to the throat at this point was time.

“Castiel! Castiel!” The voice echoed through the halls in a hollow and empty note. Castiel pulled his covers over his head and groaned to himself. No doubt, Gabriel would ask for his help evading the guards again. Castiel was not quite keen on that since the last time he’d helped Gabriel, he’d ended up covered in honey and wheat meal. It had taken weeks to get it all out of Castiel’s hair.

Regardless of Castiel’s reluctance, his brother burst into the room, franticly out of sorts. Rather unusual for Gabriel who was almost always suave and smooth. He didn’t bother closing the door, and instead looked around the room hurriedly. Dashing over to the wardrobe, he began speaking, but in such a way that his tongue tied itself in knots. Castiel shuffled himself farther under his blankets, hoping his brother would get whatever it was he needed and leave. Almost as soon as the thought had gone through his head, Gabriel was shouting nonsense and pulling Castiel out of bed by the arms.

“Gabriel!” He grunted as Gabriel dropped him and raced back to the wardrobe, pulling things out and stuffing them into a bag Castiel did not remember his brother bringing in with him. “Gabriel what is going on?” Gabriel stopped his ridiculous show of packing to glare at his little brother. The only answer Castiel got was a pair of trousers and a silk shirt thrown in his face.  
“Put those on. Grab anything of sentimental value and get yourself to the stables as fast as your ass will carry you. Understand?” Castiel nodded, but in reality, he did not understand. Gabriel was acting strange and packing Castiel up like he was going on a trip. Alone. That did not bode well, but before Castiel could ask any more questions, Gabriel disappeared back out the door. Castiel sighed to himself and began pulling on his trousers. 

They were the plainest pair he owned, yet the most difficult to put on. Anael had made them for him when she first learned to sew clothing a year or two ago. Once the ties that crisscrossed on the outside of the legs were secured correctly, he struggled with his waist cincher and undershirt. He absent-mindedly wondered where Inias was. As many times as he’d refused his servant’s help in the past, shirts still gave him an inordinate amount of trouble. He untied the black ribbon around the neck and forced the bottom hem over his shoulders. He noted that this too was one of his less extravagant articles of clothing. He re-tied the throat piece and grabbed a blue brooch. His mother had given it to him on his birthday last year, and he considered it to be “sentimental” as Gabriel had mentioned.

He didn’t have many sentimental items, if he was completely honest. Most of the things people gave him were trite and held little value in his mind. They were usually fine pieces of armor or yet another piece of jewelry with his family’s crest on it. He glanced around his room once more looking for anything else that he had an attachment to. He felt no surprise when nothing in the dark room caught his eye. This room wasn’t even his, not really. It was a room in the castle that happened to have all his possessions in it, but other than that, it looked just like any other of the larger bedrooms. Same mahogany wardrobe, same towering four-poster with heavy white linens, same smoke-tarnished candle holders, same vaulted ceilings, and same basin in the corner. There were no other personal touches.

He grabbed his riding boots and smiled a little to himself. These were much easier to put on than the shirts had been. He knew how these worked. Once he was all done up, he spared a glance out the window and groaned at how early it was. Then he turned towards the exit, blew the candles from last night out, and shut the door as he left his room for the last time.

~

“Dammit, Gabriel, just tell me what’s going on,” Castiel pleaded. The sun was just stretching its fingers into the sky, and Castiel tried to make his yawn as angry-sounding as possible.  
“No time, Castiel. Oh God, where’s Anael?”  
“Anael? What’s she doing up?”  
“She’s going to lead you to the gates while I hold them off for a few hours.”  
“Hold who off?” Castiel had noticed that Gabriel was dressed in his armor, but hadn’t said anything. “Did Dema finally declare war? Gabriel!”  
“Don’t worry about it Cassie,” Gabriel said with a tight smile, “Ana will explain it all after you head out. Right now it’s just important to get you out of here. Where is she?” He was pacing frantically and muttering to himself. He wasn’t wearing the armor’s ceremonial wings, and Castiel tried to stop him. He wanted to ask who Gabriel would be “holding off” again, but Anael came running out to them, red hair covered by her hooded dark green cloak. She held a large wicker basket off her left arm and rolled up piece of parchment in her right hand. Their mother would have a conniption if she saw Anael wearing pants and running at the same time. Running was fine, according to Mother, as long as it was in a dress; pants were fine as long as one walked. Mother was strange sometimes.

Castiel snapped himself out of his reverie as Anael approached, shoving the basket into Gabriel’s hands and stalking into the stables behind them. Gabriel had already suited both horses up with saddles and bridles. Swinging herself on, Anael spoke with absolute venom.

“How could father do this? He knew they would react violently, yet he still did it! Had it drawn up as an official document, sent down to the archives before either of them had a chance to dispute it!”  
“I know, I know, I’ll take care of it Ana,” Gabriel grumbled. Castiel was completely lost. How his father had the strength to even sit up, let alone write an official decree was beyond him. Their father had the wasting disease, and was slowly sinking into Death’s grip. He had maybe a few months left at most and had trouble eating. The people had already begun to mourn for him and hung black banners around the market places.

“Who reacted violently? What official document?”  
“Shut up and get on your horse, Cassie.” Gabriel used his magic to kick Castiel in the rear, pushing him toward the horse shuffling next to Anael’s. Gabriel handed the basket back up to Anael and she shifted it to hang like her saddlebags. Gabriel tossed Castiel a small coin purse and winked before shouting “Hiya!” and magically smacking both horses on the flank. They whinnied and raced out of the stable. When Castiel looked back, Gabriel stood by the swinging doors waving at them. Castiel lifted his arm to wave back before whipping his reins to catch up to Anael.

~

The cobblestone streets of the market place passed quickest. It was a blessing that they’d started out so early. It was the first market day, so there were no stands in the street yet. The residential area was almost as easy. The only ones awake were the maids and cooks of the wealthier houses, and they mainly stayed inside. It was difficult once they reached the manufacturer’s district. The black-smiths woke up early, apparently, as did the tanners and weavers, but they knew to stand back from two racing horses with royalty (or at least nobility, if they couldn’t tell that Castiel and Anael were son and daughter of the beloved King). 

The real difficulty was the lower quarter. The whole place smelt like smoke and dirt and feces. It was brown. Everything about it was brown. Many of the houses looked about to fall in on themselves, and the “roads” consisted of mud and tree branches. Some homes were black and missing paneling, like a fire had stripped them bare. Women in rags stood on corners either begging for money or offering themselves. Castiel heard Anael click her teeth in frustration as two dirty children with dusty faces raced out in front of her. They had been forced to a slow trot along these places, and garnered many strange looks from the population. These people had no respect for the horses, and Castiel knew it made Aneal upset. It wouldn’t have bothered Castiel in any other situation, but knowing now what he did, he was also in quite the hurry to flee.  
He wasn’t exactly thrilled about where he was headed, but he’d rather the Between Woods than what would be brewing back home at the castle. It must have been about mid-day when Aneal and he reached the Sentries’ outpost. They stopped their horses, dismounted, and asked entrance into the large stone façade. One of the lower pages opened it for them and looked completely amazed. He announced their arrival in the common room and a rather lanky man with a protruding nose jumped up and flashed a lop-sided grin at them.

“Gareth of Lower Town,” he bowed to them, his scabbard clanking to the floor. He glanced up in embarrassment as he scrambled to retrieve and reattach it to his belt. Anael rolled her eyes and pushed on.  
“Anael and Castiel of the Crown. I need you to open the gate.”  
“O-open the gate, you grace?” Garth gaped, “You know how dangerous that is right?”  
“Yes, Gareth of Lower Town,” Anael hissed. Castiel gulped at her tone. She could be positively terrifying, and right now she had no patience. “I understand how dangerous it is. I also understand that your princess just gave you an order.” Gareth bobbed his head once and scurried off. Anael sighed rubbed her forehead in a gesture of exhaustion.  
“It’s not every day you pull out the “princess” card Anael,” commented Castiel. He did not look at her as he said it, deciding instead to take account of the various members of the sentry instead.

“Today isn’t just any day, Castiel, as I believe you understand.” Castiel nodded as one of the larger sentries threw a small roll of bread at a page. The page cringed and the group of knighted sentries laughed uproariously. Anael said under her breath, “Disgusting,” and Castiel had to agree. He understood living next to the lower quarter must have had some adverse effects, but the way these men treated their subordinates was absolutely deplorable. Gareth, the Main Sentry, seemed nice enough. Castiel figured he must be a push over then. Unfortunate, really. Gareth returned, a scruffy dog following at his heels. He bowed again before reporting.

“It’s going to take a while to open the gates. You can wait here or in the hall if you’d like, your majesties.”  
“How long is a while?” Aneal questioned in her scathing tone.  
“Uh,” Gareth faltered, “ten to twenty minutes, your grace?”  
“Fine. Show us to the hall. I’d rather not take my meal in front of these…” she broke off as one of the armored men burped loudly, “…common folk.”  
“Yes your grace.” The dog barked once in a cheerful manner and followed his master through the common room and into a quieter hall with simple gray arches and a long table.  
“Thank you, Gareth. Please retrieve us when the gate is open.”  
“Of course your grace.” He bowed a final time and started toward the exit. When his dog sat next to Castiel, whimpering and tilting his head, Gareth mad a clicking noise and called for him. “Lord Fizzles! Leave the royalty alone. C’mon.” The dog whimpered at Castiel once more before turning and trotting back into the common room.  
“What an odd man,” Castiel said quietly.  
“Just another sentry if you ask me,” Anael said as she pulled the basket out of nowhere. Castiel sighed in frustration and watched her place dried meats in front of him. He waited until she’d assembled a nice dish of bread, cheese, apples, and beef slices for both of them before beginning. They didn’t speak during their meal. There was too much to say.

When Gareth returned, Anael did not even let him speak before rushing out of the hall and through the common room. Castiel glared at all the men brash enough to watch after his sister as he followed, ignoring the ones who looked after him. Gareth had pulled fresh horses for them and a squire was in the process of saddling the second one. Anael shoved him towards the one already prepared, so he mounted and started towards the gate. Anel caught up to him just as he reached the large wooden doors that stood at the same level as the highest turret in the castle. Legend said that the doors had stood since the kingdom was founded, but Castiel doubted that was true. Just another one of those old fairytales.

The two stood in silence looking out at the terrifying expanse of forest that lay only a quarter of a mile away. Castiel had only been out of the city once before to visit his fiancé, one of the princesses of Dema, but there had been a large assembly or guards surrounding the carriage, and his father had been well enough to protect against any of the nasty creatures that lived in the forest. It was daunting and ominous and Castiel had wanted to spend his day researching the well behind the castle and reading about King Raphael. He had wanted to sleep in and eat breakfast late with Gabriel. He’d wanted to listen to Aneal sing after supper and visit his father after coffee. But because his brothers couldn’t think rationally, he was now on the run from his own family. The only thing keeping him from getting an ax to the throat at this point was time.

“You remember what I said about your name?”  
“My name is James.”  
“Good. And where are you headed?”  
“To find an old friend named Rufus.”  
“And how long will you be spending there?”  
“One week. That will give Gabriel enough time to diffuse Michael and Lucifer.”  
“Where will we meet?”  
“The Roadhouse Tavern, on the first market day of next week at sunset.”

Anael handed him the basket, still brimming with food, along with the map that she had drawn on. It would take him the rest of the day and night to reach Old Knight Turner’s home. He was about to head off when she turned to him. Her features were soft for the first time today. “Oh, Castiel, I am so sorry this had to be done.” Castiel could only nod. It had been a long time since he felt like the little brother. “You had better go, brother. The guards will have spread the word that you are wanted. Go Castiel!”  
Castiel pounded his heels into his horse’s side twice as she reared with a whinny. Then before he could say goodbye, she darted off through the meadow. Castiel hunched down and waited for the cover of the trees. It didn’t take long to reach the Between Forest, but Castiel immediately regretted this plan. There was a strange feeling about the leaves, like the wind was missing. The branches moved on their own, it seemed. Castiel gave it as little thought as possible, focusing on following the red line Anael had drawn. He needed to get to Old Knight Turner’s as quickly as he could. The horse jumped over two streams and a felled tree before Castiel met any trouble.

He stopped his horse by a stream to get a drink when he first heard it. The noise was somewhere between a wolf’s growl and the rumble of the earth splitting. A tree fell to the forest floor with a crash only a few paces away. Both Castiel and his horse froze by the stream. Castiel stepped back towards his horse as quietly as possible before mounting and racing off again. Luckily the horse was so scared it needed very little prodding. Soon however, the noise came forth again, this time moving with them. Castiel hunched down as low as possible on the horse, hoping to God that he would lose whatever creature had caught hold of their scent. He scrambled with the map for a moment, knowing this would be the absolute worst time to get lost, but horse reared beneath him, and he found himself sliding off it back and onto the hard forest floor. The poor frightened animal neighed violently as it ran farther and farther into the forest. Then everything was quiet.

Castiel stood slowly, still gripping the map in his hand. As he cautiously straightened himself, a twig snapped under his boot and the low growl started up again. Of course whatever this thing was, it couldn’t have gone after the horse. No, it had to want Castiel. It was perfect, really, in irony: only having just escaped a death by his brothers’ hands, only to die in what was supposed to have been his haven. He took a step backwards. More twigs and leaves crunched underfoot and the growling doubled in volume. Castiel sprinted.

A huge black beast leaped after him from the brush. It was only a little smaller than a horse, but was covered in thick, scraggly fur and had terrible red eyes. It looked almost like a wolf, but Castiel had seen pictures of wolves, studied everything there was to know about them, and knew this was no wolf. Smoke rose off its hackles like they’d been on fire; its presence was almost ethereal shifting in and out as the light changed. It snarled behind him. He had to keep running, so he did. He was lucky, he guessed, with what happened next.

The sound of four bows being shot in unison, then a thump, a whimper and a crash. Castiel whipped his head around to see the creature in the distance had four arrows sticking out of its side and a trip wire caught on its back paw. It whimpered and struggled to stand and Castiel just turned around and kept running. He didn’t know who had shot the arrows, or whether or not the wolf-beast would keep chasing after him, but he knew he needed to get as far away from it as possible, and that’s what he did. Or at least what he planned to do.

Once he’d figured his new plan out, he felt something snag on his foot, and by the time he’d looked down to examine it, a sharp pain stabbed into his shoulder. He saw the strange contraption, some sort of knife on a long stick that went into the trees, and then passed out.


	4. Novak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good to see you in the land of the living Sir,” came a deep sleep-heavy voice. “You cost us quite the catch, so it’d be a shame if you died on us.”

Castiel opened his eyes and did not understand. The last thing he remembered was running for his life. He remembered a black wolf chasing him and his horse running off with all his supplies. Now he was staring a thatched ceiling with a low glow emanating from what he assumed to be a small fire crackling to his right. The bed was not as comfortable as the one in the castle, but not entirely unacceptable, either. He closed his eyes hoping that when he opened them again, he’d wake up back home. The brown ceiling greeted him again and he sighed deeply. Then a twinge ran through his shoulder and he groaned. A soft snuffling came from beside him, and then the sound of someone yawning and rising out of a chair followed.

“Good to see you in the land of the living Sir,” came a deep sleep-heavy voice. “You cost us quite the catch, so it’d be a shame if you died on us.” Castiel tried to sit up, but almost fell off the bed with how much pain coursed through his side. Two hands gently pushed him back into the bed and pulled the covers over him again. “Easy there man. Don’t want the stitches to tear now do we?”  
“Where am I?” Castiel managed to force out.  
“The Between Woods. Robert Singer’s place.” Castiel couldn’t quite focus on the man in from of him or on his surroundings. He just stared at the ceiling and silently cursed everything. He cursed that stupid creature that had almost killed him, he cursed his stupid family for not settling its issues and pushing them on him, he cursed this man who had done nothing but help him. He closed his eyes once more and hoped he never opened them again. The voice came again, louder this time, but not directed at him:

“Sam, you got any more of that weird tea stuff?” Muffled noises and voices called back before getting clearer. A brassy tenor voice joined the rough one in a quick exchange before Castiel felt a cup at his lips and a rather distasteful liquid passing through. He forced the beverage down, recognizing it as the same pain reliever the palace healers used. He coughed a bit once he was finished.  
“So, James,” the first man spoke, “You wanna tell us what you were doing in hunter territory when you are obviously not a hunter?”  
“Dean,” the second man chided.  
“Hush, Sammy, I wanna know. He cost us a kill.”  
“I-I need to get to Old Knight Turner’s,” Castiel said. The two men went silent. Castiel heard their feet shuffling, and then a diluted argument before the first man came back over, told him to “get some more sleep,” and then settled back in the chair by his bed. 

~

He woke up again, feeling much better, but still not right. When he moved his arm, there was a strange pull that stung and ached. There was light coming from the window above him, so it must have been morning. He was well enough to sit up and decided to take stock of his environment. He counted two exits, although where they led was still unknown. There was a fireplace across the room and a small pile of logs next to it. There was a creaky-looking chest of drawers at the foot of the bed and a chair near the head rest. The floor was wooden and the walls were stone, but the house had a completely different feel than the castle. The castle was cold and lonely whereas this house seemed warm. The chair beside the bed was empty, and Castiel let himself feel a little disappointed that he was alone. He heard some chickens nearby, as well as a horse snort, but couldn’t lift himself high enough in his bed to see out the window. His entire body ached. He was tempted to call out to someone, ask for help and something to eat and pray that whoever had captured him or helped him (he still wasn’t sure which it was) would be willing to continue helping him.

He fell back into the covers before he realized someone had striped him. The only thing they had not removed was his pair of under breeches. He groaned quietly before he heard footsteps coming towards him. He felt his heartbeat pick up, ready to fight or flee.  
“Hey, fancy-pants. You awake yet?”  
Castiel grunted in response before turning to face the man. The view he got was of the man’s knees and thighs. This man had the strangest looking legs Castiel had ever seen. He looked up further and saw that the man’s face was covered in dirt, much like the children he had seen in the lower quarter. He had a handsome face as far as Castiel could tell behind all that grime; his green eyes stood out from the darkness on his cheeks. Castiel squinted up at this man and sat up once more.

“Whoa, whoa there, you’re still not all healed up.” Castiel just grunted again and swung his legs out of bed. “James, sir, whatever you wanna be called, as much as I’d love for you to get out of our hair, I can’t let you get up just yet okay? So lie back down and let Sam get you something to drink. How’s that sound?” Castiel ignored him and used his hands to push off the bed. That was a mistake. His legs refused to hold his weight and he tumbled into this man’s arms before trying to push him away. Instead, the man gripped his forearms tightly and hefted back into the bed.

“Shit, you tore the stitches,” he complained. Castiel winced as he brushed his thumb over the raw wound. “You stay right here, you hear me?” Castiel nodded and the man left. A vague passing thought about running away passed through his mind before he remembered he couldn’t stand yet. He must still be a little delirious, he thought to himself. When the man returned with a jug and what looked to be some sort of animal tendon, Castiel groaned and rolled over so that his wound bled into the sheets. He yelped when the man pressed on the other wound which apparently existed on his back. He rolled back around to glare at his captor. The man just shrugged and gave a small smile. He poured a little of the alcohol out of the jug and Castiel winced as it made contact.

“Name’s Dean, by the way.”  
“Humph?”  
“My name. Dean. In case you were wondering.” Castiel just grunted again. Dean was about to string the tendon into a needle and Castiel growled in disapproval.  
“Wash your hands first, you slob!” Dean looked visibly shaken for a moment before grinning and getting up to do as Castiel asked.  
“Your voice always sound like that?” he asked from the wash basin as he lathered his hands in animal fat. Castiel grit his teeth to prevent him from answering. “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you, Jimmy. Is it alright if I call you Jimmy?” This man was obviously trying to bait Castiel into giving away information of some kind.

“Call me what you like.” The hunter sat down again, with clean hands, and began threading the needle.  
“I’m assuming you’ve had stitches before?” he asked.  
“Once.”  
Dean gawked, like the idea that someone had only had one set of stitches was the most shocking thing he’d ever heard. He shook his head ad pursed his lips before nodding. “Well this is gonna hurt like a bitch then. Try not to go ripping these like you did with these ones,” he said tugging the old stitches out with his free hand. Castiel winced, but made no noise. The first stitch hurt about as much as the second, but after that it became normal. It was route and memory.

“Where are my clothes?”  
“Right here,” he nodded towards the floor, “shirt’s in the rag pile though. Soaked through with blood. The pants were terrible to get off, but that corset you were wearing, Jesus, that was awful.” Dean put in another stich and glanced up at him with a grin.  
“I wasn’t wearing a corset,” Castiel spat out.  
“What do you call his then?” Dean leaned down, still holding the needle and picked up Castiel’s waist cincher. Castiel felt his face heat up when he realized that Dean must have been the one to undress him. “Aww, Jimmy, no need to get flustered! You’re not the first guy I’ve seen in his skivvies so no need for all that,” Dean smirked. Castiel hated him. Castiel wanted to ram his sword down this man’s throat.  
“Where is my sword?”  
“You mean the one that’s never been used?” Castiel grit his teeth. It had been used. He trained almost every day, but only with dummies. The blade was still as sharp as when it had first been forged. “Don’t worry, it’s right here too.” Dean moved his foot and Castiel heard a scratching noise from the floor. Dean tied the final knot in the stitches then leaned forward to bite the tendon and snap the thread. Cas grit his teeth and decided gratitude would be in order.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “for that.”  
“No problem. Actually, there’s no need to thank us. It’s our fault anyways.” Castiel looked up at the man’s face. He looked a little embarrassed through his painted-on smile.  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Well, we set up a whole bunch of traps a few months ago and hadn’t been by to check up on them. Been busy. So we kind of feel responsible for you now. And given you pass the test, we’ll even help you get to Old Knight Turner’s,” Dean finished with a wink.  
“You keep saying ‘We’. Why? Who else is there?”  
Dean leaned away and yelled, “Hey Sammy! Noble’s up! Wanna get him some grub?” A huge monster of a man appeared a few moments later with some bread and cheese. This man’s hair was much longer than Dean’s and tied back in a leather thong. His eyes were much deeper set, and Castiel could feel the aura radiating off of him like he could with his siblings.  
“It’s good to see you’re up, Lord Novak.” He bowed before placing the plate in Castiel’s lap. The prince almost faltered when he remembered the alias Anael had given him just before they’d reached the Sentry Outpost. He took the plate graciously and ate with as much elegance as he could muster.

“How long have I been here?”  
“It’s mid-day on the third market day.” A day. Castiel had lost a whole day and a half. Old Knight Turner was expecting him two nights ago. Castiel groaned and ran a hand through his hair.  
“So Jimmy,” Dean asked seriously, “just what exactly do you need to see Old Knight Turner for?”  
“Dean!” Sam interjected.  
“I hardly think that’s any of your business,” Castiel replied smoothly. Dean continued staring at him, so he stared back. Only when Sam coughed did they break eye contact.  
“I think we should let Lord Novak eat in peace, Dean,” Sam suggested as he pulled dean up by the arm and led him out of the room. Castiel was secretly grateful. Maybe these two weren’t so bad. Or at least, Sam wasn’t so bad.

~

“Look, I’m not saying we shouldn’t help him Dean, I’m just saying that his facts don’t check out. I spent all last night researching the Novak family.” Sam sat on his chopping block watching his brother swing his ax down, and then pick up a new log. Dean stood straight passing a hand through his hair.

“And?”  
“The Novaks were the first humans to marry into the royal family after Raphael’s death nearly a century ago. They don’t exist anymore.”  
“So the guy doesn’t want us to know who he is. Not surprising since he’s obviously on the run.”  
“We can’t just show him where Rufus lives without knowing what he wants!” Sam said as he stood.  
“Don’t see why not.”  
“He could attack Rufus! Kill him even!”  
“Aw, Rufus can hold his own. Besides, did you see the condition of that blade? Barely used, Sammy. Wouldn’t be surprised if the guy can’t even draw it right.” Dean smacked his ax through the wood on his chopping block.  
“So you’re suggesting we trust this stranger, who claims to be part of a long assimilated noble family and wants to see our friend, one of our only friends, just like that?” Sam couldn’t believe his brother. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips. Dean rolled his eyes and picked up another log.

“God, no! I’m just saying I feel a little responsible for his injuries, is all. We patch him up, drop him at Turner’s then head to the city to nab that evil son of a bitch we lost earlier.”  
“Dean, why on earth do you feel responsible for him? He’s not even supposed to be out here! He brought this on himself.”  
“Don’t even start! I saw you use you magic to stop the bleeding, Sammy. You feel just as guilty as I do, you ass.”  
“That’s not important. What is important is that you’re willing to let that thing get a three day head start on us. It’s gonna kill people, Dean. Good innocent people. I say we leave the guy here with Bobby, and go after it. He can wait.” When Dean didn’t answer, Sam smirked, certain he’d won. Dean chopped another two logs before throwing his ax down and removing his gloves.

“I sent Bobby to track it this morning. We’re taking Jimmy to Rufus.”  
“Damn it, Dean.” Dean just shrugged. He’d seen this coming so he took reasonable precaution. Sam paced and Dean rubbed his palms together. “You know I’m right,” Sam stabbed an accusing finger at his brother, “Why won’t you listen?” His anger dropped and a smug smile took its place. “You like him.” Dean rolled his eyes and sighed.  
“Oh no, my deepest darkest secret. You’ve discovered it,” Dean admitted sarcastically, “C’mon, Sammy really? Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean I’m gonna sleep with him.”  
“Seriously?” Sam cringed.  
“Yeah. Besides, you see those eye daggers he was sending my way. The man hates me, and with good reason.”  
“Not to mention the fact that he’s well-bred and you’re…” Sam gestured up and down at his brother, trying to hide his smile.  
“Thanks, Sam. I can always count on you to help boost the old self-esteem.”  
“Any time, brother. It’s what I’m here for.”  
“Now shut up and chop some wood. I’m gonna go make some food.”  
“Don’t forget my salad this time, you jerk!”  
Dean just laughed as he opened the door. He never “forgot” Sam’s salads. He chose not to make them.


	5. Healed Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, James. We know you’re not who you say you are,” he started. Castiel’s eyes shot open, and his shoulders tensed. So Dean had figured it out. He mentally went through everything he’d need to do before he’d be able to make it out of the house.

Castiel had met the man the younger hunters called Bobby that morning.  In terms of his first impression, the prince found him to be a scraggly old man with an unkempt beard and an even less kept mind.  But when the man spoke, he had a gruff authority and unerring logic about him. This crotchety man had forced him to drink some water, thrown salt on him, then taken his arm and cut him with a small blade before nodding at Sam and Dean and leaving the room.  From what Dean had said about him, Castiel assumed that Bobby had at one point been a hunter as well, but now lived in solitude with the creatures he’d hunted for decades.  Castiel had read of hunters who became so attached to their livelihood that they just couldn’t let it go, even after their body gave it up.  After Sam patched up the cut on his arm, Dean had sat in the chair with a stake and a knife and begun to whittle.  Castiel turned over and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Dean was making an absolute racket in a nearby room.  Although his muscles protested, Castiel sat up and leaned forward to see through the door next to the fireplace.  It was a large kitchen, another window over what looked like a wash basin and spices hanging in bundles tied to the ceiling beams.  Dean was doing something; Castiel didn’t know if it was cooking or cleaning or what he was doing, but he wasn’t sure he cared.  He still needed to get to Old Knight Turner’s.  He leaned over with a quiet grunt to grab his pants and belt from the floor.  When he’d finished struggling with those and ignoring the small stains from errant drops of dried blood, he tried to stand up.

“Well Look at that.  Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake.”  Castiel could have glared at the man in front of him for using that particular nick-name.  When Gabriel had discovered Castiel’s childhood love of fairy tales, he’d immediately begun to use the name Aurora at every possible moment.  In fact, since Castiel never grew out of his grumpy morning face, Gabriel never grew out of using it to tease him.  “Made some rabbit if you want mid-day meal,” Dean said holding out a small plate of meat.  Castiel wanted to hesitate, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Thank you,” he muttered before he began to eat.

“No problem, princess.”  Castiel froze for a moment, thinking he’d been caught.  But the way Dean just sauntered back into the kitchen with his ridiculously bowed legs didn’t show any sort of ill-will or understanding.  Sighing, Castiel allowed himself to relax again, passing it off as one of Dean’s creative nick-names.  He heard the hunter call for his brother through the window in the kitchen, and then some eager stomping as Sam cleaned the mud off his boots.

“Dean!  What did I tell you about the salad?!”

“Oops, I forgot,” Dean didn’t sound too sorry though.  The two brothers walked back into Castiel’s room and each pulled a chair up to his bedside.  They stared at him for a while, neither touching their plate of rabbit.  Castiel had already finished most of his, amazed that a brute like Dean had been able to make such fancy-tasting dish of meat.

“Is something the matter?” he finally asked.  The brothers looked at each other and Dean shrugged, giving Sam the job of speaking.  The tall man let out a long-suffering sigh but began anyway.

“Look, James.  We know you’re not who you say you are,” he started.  Castiel’s eyes shot open, and his shoulders tensed.  So Dean _had_ figured it out.  He mentally went through everything he’d need to do before he’d be able to make it out of the house.   He’d have to incapacitate the hunters, gather the rest of his belongings, steal a shirt, find his map, and “borrow” enough rations to last him the next week or so.  Sam went on like he didn’t see the injured man going through a silent checklist.  “But we figure you’ve got your secrets, and there’s no need for us to be going through your business.  We just want to know a few things before we help you over to Rufus’s.  That sound fair?”  Castiel clenched his jaw and nodded slowly.  He let a small amount of the tension in his body uncoil.

“Alright,” Dean said around his first bite of rabbit, “Why do you need Turner’s help?”

“I’m wanted for unjust reasons.”

“By who?”

“Killers,” Castiel said carefully.  Dean rolled his eyes and kept chewing.

“You’re gonna have to give us more than that James.  Rufus is a friend of ours, and needless to say, we don’t want to see him get hurt,” Sam delegated.

“Especially in his old age,” Dean smirked.  Sam hit him in the shoulder in an off-handed manner.  Castiel took a moment trying to think of how much he could reveal without endangering himself.  Everything had gone so far off the path Anael had set before him.  He shook his head.

“It’s a family matter.”  The two hunters said nothing, only leaned in closer, like they were expecting a story.  Castiel steeled himself and prayed that he was making the right choice.  “My father is quite ill, and has recently drawn up a will.  My older brothers assumed they would receive the inheritance, but apparently, my father thought it would be a good idea to give everything to me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Dean stopped him, “Are you trying to tell us that your brothers are the ones who are after you?  They’re the ones trying to _kill_ you? Over an _inheritance_?  Man, I thought our family was messed up,” he smirked as he leaned back in his chair and gave a little chuckle.  Sam bit his bottom lip and thought for a moment.

“And you had to leave the kingdom?  Why are you headed to Turner’s place?”

“My, uh, my family is quite prevalent in the kingdom.  My brothers will no doubt have a figure on my head.”  He stumbled over it, hoping the hunters wouldn’t turn him in.  That was just as bad as ransom in Castiel’s mind.  He’d read enough to know of the hunter archetype: money-hungry peasants who happened to live in the Between Woods and happen to be handy with a blade. He regretted it as soon as he said it.  Strangely enough, neither man seemed to jump at the chance.  Castiel took that as a good sign.  “Old Knight Turner is a friend of the family.  I was supposed to find him three days ago.  Then on the first market day I was supposed to return and find my sister so she could take me home.”

Dean nodded as he listened, but Sam still had his lips pressed in a firm line.  Castiel looked back down at his empty plate and squinted, trying to think of a way to convince Sam that he was telling as much of the truth as he could.

“Alright,” the bigger hunter finally said as he stood, “We’ll get you to Old Knight Turner’s.  But first we gotta heal you up the rest of the way.  Dean you think you can grab me the venison from second market day?”  Dean was up in a second and out of the room.  Sam just muttered under his breath, “I swear, give him a pretty face and he’ll do whatever you want.”  Castiel scrunched his face up trying to understand.

“Did you say something?”

“What? No, I didn’t,” Sam said quickly.  “Now have you ever been healed with magic before?”

“Yes, often.”

“Good then you already know this is going to happen, right?”  Castiel nodded curtly, willing Sam to just get on with it.  “We’re gonna be holed up here for a while, unfortunately.”  Sam almost looked embarrassed.  Castiel cocked his head.  His brothers and Anael had healed worse wounds with only a brush of the hand.  “I’m, uh, I’m still learning,” Sam admitted, stuffing the rest of his rabbit down his face.  “I mean, I know how to heal, so don’t worry about growing a third arm or anything, but it takes a lot out of me.”  Castiel nodded slowly, not feeling much better about this whole thing.  Dean came back a little later with a heaping pile of meat, which he handed to Sam with a clap on the back.

“Get eating, little brother.  We got a lot to do today!”  Sam rolled his eyes and started picking through the meat. He looked like he’d done this a few times before and hated every second of it.  Castiel would have felt bad if he’d cared.  It seemed like he could trust these men, even if he didn’t particularly like either of them.

~

The healing process was not a fun one.  Once Sam had finished Castiel’s body ached worse than before.  Sam didn’t look much better.  The job was sloppy too.  It left a pale scar over where the stitches had been.  When Gabriel or Anael or Ezekiel healed him, there was never any hint of previous injury, just smooth skin and new flesh.  Castiel figured this was the best he was going to get under the circumstances, so he said nothing.  Sam stood on shaky legs, and Dean caught him before he toppled over.

“You,” he pointed at Castiel, “sleep.”  Then the hunters left him to disappear into another room.  Castiel didn’t need to be told twice.  Sam had probably pooled their energies, like many beginners did, and healing took a lot of stamina as it was one of the most complicated types of magic.

When he woke up a few hours later, Dean was sitting in his usual place by the bedside.  He was…reading, strangely enough.  Dean had not struck him as the bookish type, yet there he was, so engrossed in the parchments that he didn’t notice Castiel’s shifting.

“What are you reading?”  Dean nearly jumped out of his skin at the question before taking a calming breath.

“Give a guy some warning would you, Jim?”

“Apologies.”  Castiel sat up in bed, his pants catching uncomfortably on his scabbard.  He cursed himself for putting it on earlier, not that the hunters seemed to think he’d actually use it.

“Revelations,” Dean mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“I’m reading Revelations.”  Castiel squinted up at him in confusion.  “What?  You got a problem with me reading the Good Book?”  Dean almost sounded amused.

“Not at all.  You just don’t strike me as the God-fearing type.”

“Don’t get me wrong, if the Big Guy exists, that’s fantastic, but it’s kinda hard to have faith when you’re surrounded by his abominations your whole life.”

“Yet you’re reading his book.”

“Research, Jimmy, research.”  Dean smirked and went back to roaming the pages of his book.  Castiel didn’t like how quiet the house was.  Someone, probably Dean, had started the fire again and all this time in bed was making him restless and tired at the same time.  He needed interaction, and the only person close enough was the brutish hunter.

“Is Sam alright?”

“Umhm.”

“I, uh, I regret being the reason he’s so fatigued.”  Castiel was not well-versed in apologies, but he thought he’d done at least an alright job of it.  His thoughts dissipated when Dean peered around his book in disbelief.

“Then stop.  We owe you so there’s no need for you to “regret” anything.  Well, I mean if I were you, I’d regret walking into the Between Woods unprepared and on foot, but to each his own.”  Dean shrugged.

“I didn’t just wander in without supplies,” Castiel growled, and Dean’s eyebrows shot up.  “My horse reared when this creature appeared out of nowhere and began chasing me.  I had a week’s worth of food and water along with enough money to purchase a small mansion.  I was hardly ill-prepared,” Castiel ranted.  Dean folded his book closed and acted very interested, nodding and letting Castiel go on.

When the prince was finished, Dean just leaned in and said in a voice that assumed Castiel was a child, “Only soldiers are prepared for the forest.  Are you a soldier?”

“N-no?”

“Then you weren’t prepared,” Dean deadpanned.  “Whose grand idea was it to throw a princess to the wolves like that?  Surely it wasn’t yours, no offense.”

“No, it was my brother’s I believe.”

“Wait the ones who want to kill you?  I thought-” His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion.  Castiel cut him off.

“I have several brothers.  Only two want me dead.  I think.”

“Jesus.  Big family, huh?”

“Yes well, our parents wanted-” Castiel froze mid-sentence, wondering how much Dean actually knew.  He swallowed and closed himself off with a quick, “Never mind.”

“You really are scared of us kidnapping you, aren’t you?”

“I feel it’s a legitimate fear, yes.”

“It’s not, but whatever.  I mean, if your brothers are so set on having your head on a silver platter, why would you think they’d pay up?  Even if Sam and I were the kidnapping type, which we’re not, it wouldn’t be profitable for us, and then there’s this bloody mess to clean up and, well, you get the picture.”

“Despite what you might think,” Castiel said with no humor, “there are still people who’d be willing to pay for me.”

“Now you just sound like a hooker.”  Castiel spluttered and frowned.  Dean chuckled before saying, “Oh, sorry princess, that’s probably insulting to you, isn’t it?  I mean no offense.”  He was obviously teasing him now.  Castiel just glared at him for a long moment.  When Dean didn’t shirk like the servants at home did under his careful gaze, he looked away.

“You’re a rather brash individual, aren’t you?”  Castiel hissed under his breath.

“I take that as a compliment, Jimmy.”  Dean smiled to himself before cracking his book back open and perusing for his spot.  Castiel felt like being petulant.

“So when are we leaving?”  Dean sighed and put his book back in his lap.

“Tomorrow morning, if all goes well.  We’ll reach Old Knight Turner’s by sun down.  Then he can help you the rest of the way back to the city or whatever.”

“Well, if you won’t take my apology, you can at least have my gratitude.”

“Sure.  If that’s what you want.  And if you won’t take our loyalty, you can at least take a shirt.”

“What?”

“Well, you’ve been in my bed for two days, eating our food, and taking our energy, but you keep glaring daggers at me and my brother, so please, do me the kindness of just covering yourself, man.”  He couldn’t tell if Dean was joking or being serious at first, but the pull at the corner of his mouth made Castiel clam up.  He swallowed thickly before Dean stood abruptly and walked out of the room.  When he returned he tossed a shirt at Castiel, who caught it weakly.  He bent over the edge of the bed to grab his waist cincher and struggled to untangle the cords on the back.

“Jim, I hate to ask, but what’s with the lady’s underwear?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A corset?  Seriously?”

“It’s not a corset, it’s a waist cincher.  It keeps posture,” was all Castiel could say as he pulled fruitlessly at the knot.  “Who did this?” he asked accusingly, shaking the garment of fabric and bone.

“Well you were losing body heat pretty fast after the ride here, so we had to strip you, and that meant whatever that thing is,” Dean said pointing at it.  “It was a bitch to get off, let me tell you.  I’ve taken off plenty of corsets, but that one was a challenge.”  He laughed when he saw Castiel’s look of horror.

“Well you did a terrible job.”  The prince finally managed to get the knot out and slipped the thing over his shoulders, wincing at the soreness in his back.

“Then I won’t ask to lace it up,” was all Dean said in reply.  Castiel rolled his eyes as he tightened it again and began to twist it so it faced the right way.  He was still not as proficient at dressing himself as he probably should have been, but he was determined _not_ to ask for Dean’s help.  He pulled the shirt over his chest and looked down at how plain it was.

“It’s a hand-me-down,” Dean explained, scratching his neck absent-mindedly.

“A what?”

“Well, I mean, it used to be mine, and then it was Sam’s, and now it’s yours.”

“Dean I don’t need any more garments,” he said as he thought of what his mother would say if she saw him in a commoner’s clothes.  She’d probably die of shock.  Castiel almost smiled.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t fit me anymore and it certainly doesn’t fit Sammy, and you need a shirt or Rufus will throw a fit, so,” he shrugged, “you do the math.”

“What math?”  Castiel asked.  Dean just looked at him like he had started speaking another language.  Then he shook his head and sat back down.

“So this creature…” Dean was suddenly serious, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his laced fingers, “What did it look like?”

“The one that attacked me?”  Dean nodded.  “A deformed wolf.”

“Color?”

“Black.”

“Catch its paw size?”

“What?”

“Well, certain creatures have different paw sizes, you know?”  He shook his head.  “It helps with tracking, but never mind.  What about eye color?  Were they white?  Or black?”

“Red.”

“Red…” Dean pondered.  He repeated the color a few more times, thinking deeply about it before Castiel spoke up again.

“It was strange, it seemed to balance on the edge of my perception, like it existed, but not entirely, do you understand?”

Dean said nothing; he simply shot up and began tracing a finger over the spines in the book shelf hanging facing the bed.  He pulled out a rather thick red book, blew some dust off it and settled back into his chair.  He was about to open it and resume reading when he stopped, smirked, and went back to the book shelf.  “You’re pretty bored.  That’s why you’re talking to me, right?”

Castiel didn’t answer.  If he agreed, he was being rude, no matter how true it was; but if he lied, he’d have to think up another reason for engaging the hunter, and he wasn’t quite up to that yet.  Luckily, Dean didn’t give him time to think too hard.  “Well, I think I’ve got the perfect book for you to pass the time with, princess.”  He stood and tossed a brown leather book at him.  It thumped on the sheets and Castiel picked it up to read the title.  The book was so old, however, that the gold leaf had been worn beyond legibility, so he opened it and almost threw the book when he saw the title.  _The Collection of Children’s Fairy Tales._ Castiel’s hands shook as he turned the page.  How long had it been since he’d looked at this book?  He’d refused to touch it after his last visit to these woods.  Dean coughed awkwardly.

“You really gonna read that?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Castiel said hoping his voice wouldn’t break.  He didn’t understand why he was getting so emotional over a book.  But he turned the well-loved pages and looked at the gruff man sitting beside him.  “Dean, is this…is this book yours?”

“Yeah, used to be my favorite book when I was little.  Used to make my mom read from it every night before I went to bed.”  Dean nodded and his eyes looked far away for a moment.  Castiel quietly thanked him and flipped quickly to page eighty-seven.  There were no illuminations in this copy, and the handwriting was very different.  Less embellished, with fewer curves, but the fact that the stories hadn’t changed made something in his bones ache.  He settled down and got comfortable as he began to read.


	6. Dried Meat and Gruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean picked up the pace suddenly, urging Baby into a quick trot which then turned into a raging gallop. Castiel had not been ready and nearly fell off the horse. He counter balanced, and clung to Dean’s shoulders as Sam tried to catch up behind them. Dean howled loudly, his rough voice echoing against the chipped and uneven surface of the cave walls. He had a huge smile wiped on his face, smacking Baby’s reins once and standing in his stirrups.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he woke with a start.  Dean was shouting at something, and there was more banging in the kitchen than there needed to be at this hour.  The book slid off the bed with a thump and Castiel scrambled to save it.  He only ended up getting caught in the coarse white sheets on Dean’s bed.  He grunted to himself in frustration as he attempted to extract himself.  His feet felt strange when they hit the wooden floor, like they were too rounded to stand on.  As he leaned to pick up the book, his back popped in several places, very satisfying, he decided.  He glanced at the open anthology in his hands and flipped through the pages carelessly.  He was just about to close it when something on the inner front cover caught his eye.  A scratchy, childish hand had scrawled something there.  It took a moment for Castiel it must have been Dean’s attempt at claiming ownership of the book years ago.  If he squinted hard enough, he could just make out the “D” and the “E”.  The rest was lost to lack of practice and education.

Dean was still shouting, his invectives followed by a crash and the tinkling of glass.  Castiel’s head was still too cloudy to try and understand it.  He decided to try and get up rather than put his head back to the pillow.  They had to leave early, and Castiel wanted to get to Old Knight Turner’s as quickly as possible.  He yawned before pushing himself to his feet.  When he tumbled forward he let out a less than regal yelp.  He could hear Dean laughing at him.

“Oh, so Sleeping Beauty finally shows her face,” he heard Dean’s voice float in from the kitchen.  Except maybe “float” wasn’t the word for it.  Dean’s voice was low and gravely, so it must have rolled in, pushed its way through the air.  “And I didn’t even have to kiss her!” Dean laughed.  Sam’s voice joined his and something else clunked and rattled against something else.  Castiel struggled to his feet and tried his best to place one foot before the other and make his way to the kitchen.  He silently condemned the three days of bed rest.

“Hey James, how are you feeling?”  Sam stood at an open cabinet.  He was dressed in a brown tunic and white trousers.  Over his tunic was a small caplet of mail.  He looked half asleep as he pulled things down and placed them where Dean could get to them.  Dean was gathering everything from peach preserves to spice bundles and loading them into leather saddle bags.  He was in a thin white shirt under a green fitted vest.  The shirt seemed to be missing a sleeve (which revealed he was also wearing mail) and showed its ratty edge under the bottom hem of the vest.  A pelt hung on his hip, and to Castiel’s alarm, he had a knife holstered to his thigh over his burlap trousers.

“I’ve been better,” Castiel said slowly, eyes lingering Sam’s brother, “but I’ve been worse,” he said as he finally faced Sam.  He noticed the taller man’s jaw clench, but the hunter nodded anyway.

“Hey Jim, you wanna grab that bundle over there?” Dean asked as he jerked his head at the old wood counter.  The only bundle on it was a rather unsettling collection of bones tied with twine.  He shuffled over and picked it up with a shudder before quickly handing it to Dean.  “And there’s some pelts in the lower cabinets if you could grab those.”   Dean pointed at some more small doors near the ground.  Castiel felt awkward as he tried to figure out the best way to access them in the small kitchen.  Finally he just decided to sit.  That would be easier on his feet anyway.  He was not expecting the avalanche of furs that awaited him.  They practically burst out of their place like they were still alive.  There were all sorts from what Castiel could see; brown, black, tri-colored, stripped, mottled, thick, soft, coarse.

He was marveling at them intensely when Dean whistled for his attention, then made grabby hands.  Castiel did his best to fold and hand each fur to him before Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed most of them and unceremoniously shoved them into another saddle bag.  Then, abandoning his previous station, Sam grabbed the filled bags and headed outside, into the dark morning.  Castiel didn’t want to think about what the Woods had running around at this time.  He didn’t have much time to linger on the issue before there was a brown bag in his face.  Dean held it out to him impatiently.

“C’mon princess.  Time to saddle up.”

~

Dean had gotten Baby and Ford all ready for the trip before Sam had gotten up.  They had come to the joint-decision that eating on the road would be easier and quicker than cooking up something in Bobby’s kitchen.  Dean ignored the old mule, Jalopy, that Bobby kept for tilling in the spring time.  She was good and sturdy, but almost as stubborn as Dean, and Rufus would throw a fit if they left her in his stables when they left James with him.  As they’d packed, Sam and Dean had discussed the best way to finish off their hunt.  If they were lucky, _really_ lucky, it wouldn’t have breached Celeta’s walls yet.  Chances were slim, so they had formulated a backup plan.

They’d been having a hard time of packing, or at least Sam had been.  He was obviously still half asleep and kept placing things half off the wooden counter.  Dean had been lucky just to catch them before they fell, if he caught them at all.  A particularly loud crash of preserves must have woken Jim up, because only a few moments later he appeared in the kitchen looking less awake than Sam.  Dean couldn’t help but appreciate his bed head and hid a smirk with a request for the vampire bones he stood next to.

After taking all the furs from Jim, he waited for the noble accept a saddle bag.  The poor man hesitated at the door, and nervously glanced at the darkness outside the windows.

“Jim, c’mon.  You’re gonna be fine.  Sammy and I are the best hunters in this God-forsaken forest.  You got nothing to worry about,” Dean said from the front step.  He was rearing to go, and the stupidly attractive noble was slowing him down.  The dark-haired man just looked at him through squinted eyes.  He left James to ponder his options for a while.  He didn’t blame the guy for his fear; the forest was brutal, and after what he’d been through, well, Dean was glad it hadn’t been him in the fancy bicolored riding boots.  Sam was loading Ford up with all the food they’d need for the next two weeks, plus some for trading on the market days along with the weapons and magic items.  The younger brother headed back inside for their armor before emerging and tossing Dean’s at him.  Sam quickly fastened his brassards to his forearms and greaves over his boots.  How he managed to tie his silver gorget over his throat amazed Castiel.  Dean put on his knee lame first before slipping his arm through his

 couter and fixing the pauldron on his shoulder.  Sam appeared by his side to fasten the thick leather straps over the vest.  James suddenly seemed extremely vulnerable.  Dean would have said something if there had been any spare armor, but if all went right, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Dean picked up his saddle bag, threw it over Baby’s rear, and fastened it to her saddle.  He was only in charge of the skins and furs since Sam and he had decided that James should ride with Dean.  Baby was a broader, stronger horse than Ford.  She could handle a second rider.  Dean was just finishing up tying the bags when James appeared behind him.

“Jesus, shit!”  James gave him a rude look as he gestured to the bag in his hand.  Dean ran a hand over his face before taking the bag and calling for Sam.  “Catch,” he said as he tossed the bag.  Even in the dark and his half-sleep-drunk mood, Sam caught it just fine.

“Alright, princess, you’re riding with me.  Front or back?”  Jim clenched his jaw and drew his eyebrows together.

“What?”

“You wanna ride front or back of the horse?”  Dean repeated.  Sam choked a laugh down and Dean threw him a dirty look which was lost in the darkness of morning.  When Jim only seemed more confused, Dean tried to explain it again.  “Look, you can either ride behind me, or you can sit up front, and I’ll be behind you.”  As he said it, he realized just how bad of an idea that would be.  “Screw it, you’re sitting in the back.”

“Screw _him_ ,” Sam corrected.  Dean cursed at his brother as he stepped up and threw his leg over Baby’s back.  He moved his leg out of the way and waited for Jim to take his mount too, but the pressure in the stirrup didn’t come.  Dean looked down to see the man shifting from side to side awkwardly.

“Oh, come on,” Dean groused as he threw his hand out.  He wiggled his fingers to let James know he was supposed to take the gloved hand in front of him.  It took a moment, but he finally understood and let Dean help him up.  Dean quietly enjoyed having the other man behind him.  James shivered in the coolness of the morning as the hunter in front of him snapped the reins and set off.

~

Castiel would have been lying if he’d said the Between Woods were terrible.  Even after his bloody ordeal, he had to admit that the colorful treetops and monochrome trunks and bushes and brush were certainly picturesque.  But there was something about the woods that made him uneasy.  He finally decided it was because every twitch in the leaves could be something that wanted him dead.  Dean must have sensed his unease because he talked a lot during the trip.  Even as they at morning meal he continued his one-sided conversation.  Every once in a while Sam would offer tidbits and anecdotes.

They crossed about three old dilapidated bridges before Dean’s shoulders froze up, and his riding gait grew stiffer.  His voice shifted to a gruff whisper and he pulled a sword from his side.  “We’re heading into werewolf territory, so it’s best to stay quiet.”

Castiel had barely said anything since they’d left, more content to listen to Dean’s voice roll through his stories, but he took heed of the warning regardless.  Was what ambushed him earlier a werewolf?  It seemed likely to him, but he couldn’t ask now.  He hunched behind Dean’s form and hoped to God that they didn’t run into anything like that.  He just wanted to get to Old Knight Turner’s.  That was all he’d wanted.

About an hour later, Sam and Dean pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted.  Dean leaned back, his fingers laced together and stretched high above his head.  He gave a satisfied grunt when his back popped thrice.  Castiel dropped off Baby’s back as well and kept his voice at a whisper.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Shit man, I gotta take a leak,” Dean replied as he stalked off.

“We’re out of the werewolves’ land; we thought it’d be a good idea to take a break.  I’m assuming your legs are a little sore?”  Castiel nodded and decided Sam was right.  He walked around the small clearing to get some fresh blood into his weak legs.  When Dean returned, Sam threw him some dried meat and left in the direction his brother had come from.  Dean yanked his head to remove a bite off his mid-day provisions.

“We’re a little ahead of schedule.”  Castiel nodded.  “That means we’ll probably get there before nightfall which is perfect.”

“I appreciate your help, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I still feel a little guilty about it, and I won’t stop until you’re safe with Rufus.  You hungry?”

“Uh,” his mother had impressed her ‘no stuttering’ rule on him since he could speak, but for some reason, he found his hesitance justified, “what does it taste like?”  Dean’s eyebrows shot up as he chewed.

“What?  You’ve never had dried meat?”

“No.  Everything I eat is cooked just before meal times.”

“Good life,” the hunter mused as he rummaged through the bags on Sam’s horse.  He pulled out another bundle of dried leathery looking meats and tossed a small strip to Castiel.  “It’s beef. I think.”

Castiel held it for a moment before placing a small piece between his teeth and trying to chew a bit off.  Dean snickered at him when his nose scrunched up.  It felt like leather and he just couldn’t manage to tear off the piece in his mouth.  He stopped trying and pulled the half chewed thing from his jaw.  He was a bit embarrassed at how unmannered it must seem, but that vanished to Dean’s peals of laughter.

“No, listen,” he managed through his amusement, “Bite down hard and then tear it.  That’s the fun of eating dried stuff.”  Castiel had never thought eating to be fun, with all the rules and manners he was supposed to keep in mind at every family or royal meal.  He did as Dean had told him though, trusting this man more than he knew he should have.  It worked.  Dean gave him a lop-sided smile before continuing on his own piece and shouting at Sam to hurry up before he ate all the cherry preserves.  Castiel had to say that the dried meat was an experience.  It was smoky and spicy and very different to anything the palace cooks had ever prepared for him.  After a few tough chews, the meat took on a slightly sweet flavor.  He swallowed and took another bite, not hesitating to tear.

Sam stomped back into the clearing and demanded Dean put the cherries down.  Instead, Dean just chucked them at his brother, laughing as Sam fumbled with the glass jar.

“Take it easy, Sam.  Have some cherries.”

“Dean these are for trading!  I can’t barter with this jar now!”  Dean just shrugged and started rummaging in Ford’s saddle again.  Sam rolled his eyes when Dean’s hand emerged clutching a jar of orange viscous liquid.

“Put the marmalade back, Dean.”

“I made it, I get some of it,” Dean was definitely not pouting.  This stuff had taken an entire day to make, and he’d only ended up with ten or so jars.  It was a rather popular trading item though, and always ended up getting snapped up on the rare occasion the brothers made an appearance at the market.  Just once, Dean wanted to have a whole jar to himself.  He deserved it.

“Dean!  Do you want marmalade or do you want bread?”  Dean groaned before conceding, throwing the jar back into the bag and pulling out a fresh apple instead.  He took a bite then passed it to Sam who finished it off just as James finished his piece of jerky.  “Alright, you two ready to saddle up again?”  Sam tied his hair up in a small pony-tail as he asked.

“Let’s go,” Dean replied as he headed back to Baby.  He hopped back up and didn’t even have to wait for James to hop up behind him.  They set off at a different angle than they had come from, towards the sound of rushing water.

~

Castiel was amazed at how long it took to find the source of the sound.  After an hour, it had sounded like they hadn’t even gotten a meter closer to the water.  He began to wonder if the men were leading him in circles, yet none of the trees looked familiar.  Then again, they knew the forest better than he did.  They must be wily little money grabbers.  Soon however, the sound of water crashing into itself grew steadily louder until it was almost too loud to think.  Sam led the trio into another clearing, this one larger and much greener than the last, with a river of amazing size running through the center.  There was a tall rocky cliff and threatening waterfall that tumbled over it, whiting out at the base and casting a hazy rainbow over the clearing.

Sam hopped off his horse and got the canteen and empty wine skins out of a bag.  Dean began directing Baby towards the edge of the waterfall.  Castiel was about to grab Dean, warning him about treading into the terrible crushing force of the waterfall, but saw a sliver of land just big enough for a horse behind the flowing curtain of clear water.

A cave.  There was a cave behind the waterfall.  Just like in every adventure novel he’d ever had the chance to read, there was a gaping hole waiting to envelope them and keep them from the eyes of any forest monsters.  They daylight disappeared as Baby meandered in, her hooves changing from soft thumps on grass to clicks on solid stone.  Dean stopped her once it got too dark to see ahead.  Castiel was still having a hard time hearing anything over the raging waters behind him, but Dean’s breathing was easier to distinguish as they got further.  Sam followed after them a few minutes later, holding all sorts of sloshing containers.  He had a lit torch in hand.

No one said anything for a while as they slowly let the waterfall silence itself in the dank air of the cave.  It must have been another hour before Sam stopped again for another meal.  He pulled out a bowl and mixed what looked like some wheat meal with some of the fresh water from the river and mixed it well until it made a bland brownish glop.

“You’d better put some bacon on that,” Dean warned.  Sam rolled his eyes, but obliged after some searching through their bags.  Sam took a few spoonfuls for himself before handing the bowl and utensil to Dean, who also took some before passing it back over his shoulder to Castiel.  The prince looked at the watery sludge in the wooden bowl and then at the brothers.  “You’ve never even seen gruel before, have you?”  Dean asked.  Castiel shook his head.  “Look, it’s not great, but it keeps you full for a while.  Just finish it off would you?  Or give it back.”

Castiel was hungry.  He scrapped some of the edge of the bowl and brought the spoon to his mouth.   The texture was almost gag-worthy.  A mixture between mucus and grainy dust.  It had little flavor, only saved by the small salty pieces of ham mixed in.  He managed to down the rest of the bowl before he handed it back to Sam.  Dean was right; his hunger vanished, but not in the comfortable warm sensation he was used to.  Instead, it felt like a rock had settled in his stomach, pulling him down and dragging him around.

This time, Sam did not allow them to fall into silence.  He immediately began asking Castiel questions about his home and his life, all while trying to avoid making him uncomfortable.  Castiel appreciated Sam’s tact and felt himself dropping his guard as a sort of tentative trust formed between the two.

“James, I am curious as to what your rank is.  I don’t mean to offend you by dropping the title.”

“I am a lord,” Castiel lied quickly.  He hoped it sold, and from Sam’s expression it had.  He sighed and jumped when Dean shivered in front of him.

“Lord, alright, Lord James.  Can you tell us your real name?  Since you can’t be of the Novak family, I mean.”

“No.”

“I apologize,” Sam bowed his head.  Dean rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and rearranged himself in the saddle.

“There is no need.”

“You’ve mentioned your brothers.  Are there any other siblings we should be aware of?”

“I have three brothers and a sister.  I also have many servants who are like family though.”

“Nothing says family like acting cordial for a few gold coins,” Dean muttered.  Castiel frowned, not quite understanding the insult.

“Dean,” Sam hissed.  He was absolutely horrified by Dean’s behavior.  He knew that his brother was bitter at nobles, but now was definitely not the time to express that.  Besides, James didn’t seem too disdainful of lesser subjects like the brothers.  At least once you got past the naivety and pride.  Sam’s eyebrows drew up when James asked the next question.

“Do you two have any other siblings?”

“One,” Dean answered harshly, “He’s living with Ellen, Jo and Pam at the moment.  Wanted out of the hunting life as soon as he realized that’s what we did.”  Sam could have laughed outright at Dean’s silly theatrics.

“He’s just holding a grudge,” he explained to James, “Feels like Adam abandoned his family.  Thinks he’s selfish.”  The aristocrat nodded seriously.

“I don’t just feel like he abandoned us, he _did_ abandon us.  Left for the easy life of a bar tender!  The forest took mom-“

“The forest took _our_ mom, Dean.  Not his.”  When Castiel gave Sam a confused look, he elaborated.  “Our mom passed when we were both young.  Our father found another woman and spent some time with her until she died of sickness.  She was Adam’s mother.”

“Half-brothers then,” James clarified.  Sam nodded and Dean simmered.

“What about the rest of your family?  Your parents?” Sam asked.  Castiel pondered just how much he could tell without giving himself away.

“My father and mother are both…eccentric, I think would be the best way to describe them.”

“Eccentric?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Yes.  Father has always been a nervous man.  He is strangely agreeable towards everyone and rather quiet for a man of his position.  Mother is his exact opposite.  She is forward and strict with some of the most arbitrary rules.”

“Wow, sounds like fun,” Sam said considering the descriptions.  Dean sighed loudly.

“I suppose.  I don’t see much of either of them, so I wouldn’t really know,” admitted Castiel.

“What?  You don’t see your parents often?”  Sam asked.  His voice expressed deep concern, as though this neglect could damage the aristocrat.

“No, but that is not uncommon for families of my standing.  My parents have too much to do with business to have time to spend on their children.  Besides, I have tutoring almost all day and sparring in the evenings.  And there are the servants to keep me company.  And my siblings.”

“Sounds real warm and snuggly,” Dean deadpanned.  The cave grew lighter and a wind picked up, sending a chill down all their spines.  Castiel’s hands felt heavy where they rested on his thighs.  He figured it would be more comfortable to rest them on Dean’s waist or shoulders, but was uncertain how the hunter would react.  He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to get some feeling back into his fingers while the brothers fell silent again.

“Hey James, if you’re nobility,” Sam started.  He didn’t seem too confident and twirled a piece of errant hair nervously.  “I mean I don’t mean to pry or anything, but if you’re a noble, why haven’t we seen you use magic?”

“I can’t,” was all Castiel said.  It was the truth.  Out of all his siblings, he was the only one who had no magic in them.  The Council of Mages had told his father that once he had a girl, he should not ask God for more lest he tear his kingdom asunder.  But his father had forgotten their warning and let Castiel be born.  Castiel resented the prophecy.  After all, nothing too bad had happened upon his birth.  But he still had no magic, so he wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“You can’t?  Wh-why?”

“I don’t believe that knowledge of magic determines one’s status in society, as I’m sure you know quite well,” Castiel answered.  He supposed it had come out harsher than intended by the way Sam flinched.  In front of him, Dean shifted and let out a gruff noise of anger before snarling at Sam.  Sam hunched his shoulders in a silent response.  Castiel ignored their unspoken argument and went back to pondering whether Gabriel had already sorted out everything between their family members.

Castiel could not say how long it had been since they’d entered the cave, but the light coming from the faint pinprick of sun ahead suggested late evening had arrived.  Dean picked up the pace suddenly, urging Baby into a quick trot which then turned into a raging gallop.  Castiel had not been ready and nearly fell off the horse.  He counter balanced, and clung to Dean’s shoulders as Sam tried to catch up behind them.  Dean howled loudly, his rough voice echoing against the chipped and uneven surface of the cave walls.  He had a huge smile wiped on his face, smacking Baby’s reins once and standing in his stirrups.

“Almost there, Jimmy,” he shouted behind him, the startled noble gripping Dean’s shoulders as best as he could, eyes wide with surprise.  He heard Sam laughing and hollering behind him.  The small dot of light at the end of the tunnel grew and grew, the bright colors solidifying into trunks and bushes.  Baby burst out the cave with a low grunt of exertion.  A few more fast-paced minutes of galloping later, and Dean let Baby slow down.  She shook her head joyfully and pranced in place a little.  He patted her neck and cooed at her while she snorted happily in response.

“You and that horse,” Sam admonished playfully.

“Ah, shut up.  You’re just jealous,” Dean said with a grin.

“Of you and your horse?  Oh, I didn’t realize you two were so exclusive.”

“Oh shut up, ya’ bitch,” Dean growled.  He sounded angry, but still had that playful air around him.  For a moment, Castiel wished Gabriel were there to be a brother to him.  He missed the next few quips the boys aimed at one another before Dean turned to him and said, “Hey Jim, you wanna ease up on the shoulders?”  Castiel quickly let go, unaware that he’d let them linger after his shock had dissipated.

The sun hung low, casting soft golden light on the forest and deepening the shadows dramatically.  The boys didn’t seem to be in too much of a rush though, so Castiel said very little just hoping to get the Old Knight Turner’s before the daylight disappeared and the most evil creatures came out of the brush.


	7. Old Knight Turners's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was about to ask the arguing brothers about a map when a growl silenced all three of them.
> 
> Castiel recognized that sound.

 

 

Castiel wanted to break into a gallop when he saw the small wooden cabin.  It looked similar to Robert Singer’s, only smaller.  There were shoddy glass windows, covered in dust and webbed with fissures, a door that didn’t close correctly, and a thatched roof with a short stone chimney.  Dean suddenly reached into his pants pocket and fidgeted until he found whatever it was he was looking for.  He pulled his fist out, and then twisted until his hand was resting over his opposite shoulder, gesturing for James to hold out his hand.  Castiel did so, and felt himself gape in shock when Dean dropped his blue brooch into his pale hands.  He had completely forgotten about it.  Even if he had remembered it, he probably would have just assumed that the brothers had stolen it.

“Figured you’d want that back.  Seems valuable,” was all Dean said.  Castiel quickly fastened it to the collar of his shirt and nodded in thanks.

They only moved a little closer to the house before Dean and Sam stopped their horses.  Castiel was about to open his mouth when Dean dismounted.  He looked to Sam for confirmation before the two nodded in silent understanding.  Then Dean slowly approached the house.  He didn’t even head toward the door.  He walked cautiously around the perimeter of the property, sword drawn, and posture defensive.

“What is he doing?”  Castiel couldn’t help asking.

“Checking to make sure there’s nothing deadly waiting for us.  Just because inside Rufus’s house is safe doesn’t always mean the outside of his house is.”  Sam made a very good point.  Castiel was silently grateful that these men had decided to help him.  They may have been rude and aggressive and unfortunately common, but they’d helped Castiel in a time of need; he decided if they should ever come into the kingdom, he would allow them certain immunities.  He thought of which privileges he could allow with his stature.

Dean shook him from his thoughts with a loud curse.  Sam looked concerned before Dean shouted that everything was fine but they had a bit of a problem.  Then the younger brother rolled his eyes and sighed.  He prodded Ford forward, and Castiel followed on Baby.  They both dismounted and joined Dean on the front step.  He was grumbling to himself and held a shred of parchment in his glove.

“Can you believe this?” he waved the note in Sam’s face.

“Wh-what?  Dean, sto-” he grabbed the thing from Dean’s hand, “Gimme that!”  He shook the parchment straight and began to read.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair and groaned in a frustrated manner.

“ _If you get this you pansy-ass princess, It’s because you’re late and I’m busy at the market.  There’s something hanging around these parts of the woods and I wasn’t ready to handle it_. ”  Sam shifted uneasily before continuing,  “ _I suggest you haul ass back to the city if you plan on meeting your sister.  There’s food in the cabin.  Good luck, Rufus… P.S. Don’t die._ ”  Castiel joined Dean in a groan.  Sam rubbed at his eye before turning to his brother.  “Dean…”

“No,” Dean pointed angrily at Sam, “don’t you dare.”

“Dean…”

“Sammy, I swear to God, if you say it,” he threatened.

“Dean, I told you this was-”

“God damn it Sam!”

“We should have left him with Bobby while we went after it.”

“Yeah, well Bobby’s keeping an eye on it and would have contacted you if he’d seen anything.”

“Unless he couldn’t find it,” Sam pointed out.  Castiel stayed quiet.  How on earth was he going to get back to Celeta in time?  If the brothers decided to abandon him, he wouldn’t blame them; but he had no way of getting out of the forest.  He looked over the tree tops as the sun finished setting.  He supposed that if he could get them to draw a map for him, he could make it back to the city after spending the night at Old Knight Turner’s, but that might take a day or two and then what?  He’d be a day early.  He couldn’t stay in the Between Woods, he didn’t think he could handle the anxiety every creak of the floorboards would cause or the rustle of the bushes would instill.  Castiel was not made for that.  He was the type to spend his days in endless search of information.  He preferred strategy and tactics to the actual battlefield.  He was about to ask the arguing brothers about the map when a growl silenced all three of them.

Castiel recognized that sound.

His feet froze to the ground, his eyes open in terror as the brothers quietly drew their swords.  Castiel felt his breathing quicken and his heart rate pulse frantically.  He was not ready for this.

“Hey, Blueblood, get your sword out, would you?” Dean whispered from right behind him.  “It might not do you any good, but it’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better.”  Castiel struggled to get the blade from its sheath.  He let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.  Sam and Dean stepped slowly down off the porch and on to the ground.  The growling grew louder.  Castiel wanted to tell them to come back, to shout that it was dangerous.  Finally, the beast showed itself.  The same smoking scruff and smoldering eyes.  It snapped its hellish jaws in a show of dominance and resumed growling.  Its body faded in and out of Castiel’s sight, like it didn’t want to be seen, but it was more solid than before.  Sam stood still only a few paces from where it hunched on its claws.  The light around his head increased as he drew up more energy for his magic.  His eyes held a fear that told Castiel he had never seen such a creature and had no clue where to begin in terms of attacking it.  Dean on the other hand kept whipping his head around, looking for the creature that had Sam locked to the ground.

“Dean,” Sam ventured almost inaudibly.  Dean must not have heard him so he tried again.  “Dean!”

“What?  Where is this sonofabitch?”

“It’s right there.  I’ve never…”

“Where?”

“Right there.  You don’t see it?”  Sam’s voice edged on panic.  Castiel saw what remained of the four arrows that had slowed the creature down half a week earlier.  They were only four small stakes of wood amongst the mess of wiry black fur covering the beast.  Dean’s boot came down on a brittle branch in the darkness and everything went to hell.

The wolf creature lunged forward only to meet Sam’s blade with its teeth.  They sparred for a moment before jumping apart, Sam cursing under his breath, the creature pacing angrily and growling.  It suddenly lifted its head to the air and sniffed.  It turned towards Castiel and began growling terribly.

“What the hell?” Dean asked trying to edge his way to his brother.  “What’s going on?”

“D-dean,” Castiel stuttered from the porch, “That’s the thing that-”

“Are you freaking kidding me?  It’s coming after you again?  Where the hell is this thing, Sam?”  Sam pointed his sword at the beast and Dean began hedging his steps, gaining a little more on the wolf.  It had started towards Castiel on the porch, but Dean didn’t seem too keen on letting it get there.  He listened carefully to where its low rumble was and suddenly lashed out, striking the creature once, right on the neck.  It jumped at him, stumbling backwards at the quick weight change before slashing at Dean with its huge grimy paws.  It only landed one blow before Sam was on it.  He stabbed at its flanks and managed to draw a little more blood.  The thing shrieked in an unearthly manner, and Castiel watched as it flickered in and out of perception.  He stumbled carefully off the porch, sword held defensively in front of him.  While Sam and the creature fought it out, Castiel tried his best to keep quiet in the dark and make his way to Dean.

“James, get your ass inside, would you?  You’re gonna get killed,” Dean said as he used his sword to prop himself up.  Castiel ignored him, and began scanning Dean’s chest for the wounds the wolf had been sure to leave.  There were two lines of blood seeping through the white sleeve of his shirt, but he didn’t seem fazed.  He ran to help his brother, pushing Castiel back towards the house.

The prince hated feeling so useless.  If Gabriel were here, the beast would be dead by now.  Castiel stepped towards the battle unconsciously.  He felt his jaw clench.  He was useless.  He’d always been useless.  He was the only member of his family without magic.  He remembered his father’s look of disappointment when the teachers had told him that his son was an anomaly.  The mages had told him that was how these things worked: you traded magic for sanity within the family line.  And now he would die, along with these brothers who’d given up their valiant hunt to help him on his way.

Sam was desperately trying to hack away the jaws that had his arm in their grip.  Dean was stabbing the beast’s flank wildly as he shouted Sam’s name.  The creature turned and roared at Dean.  Its form smoked in a slow contrast to the action around it; the haze was hard to make out in the dark.  Now Sam took up the stabbing while Dean parried each snap of the jaws with his sword.  Castiel didn’t know how he knew it, but something in Dean’s posture told him that he was going to fall.  It must have been the way his body leaned backwards as he retreated, or the way his steps sped up and erratically lost control.

He didn’t know how it happened, but the last clear thought he had was that he owed these men his life and he wasn’t about to let them die.

~

Dean had figured he was done for the moment he’d felt the putrid breath of whatever it was he was fighting float into his face.  It smelt like burning bodies.  That didn’t mean he was going to lie down and take it.  He slashed at it and waved his sword at it until the stinking blood that welled out of each slice covered the beast’s head and showed just how ugly the thing was.  He felt a little better about the battle once he could see where the thing was aiming for, but that didn’t help his balance much.  He could hear Sam’s grunts of exertion and the sound of metal on flesh.  The pain in his left arm was starting to catch up with him, but he kept moving.  Just out of the corner of his eye, he noticed James standing near the porch.  Poor guy would probably end up dead too at this rate.  Dean almost felt bad, but he had more pressing matters at hand, particularly a large slobbering wolf the size of a donkey that was currently trying to take Dean’s arm off.

He knew his steps were getting less precise.  The beast was trying to close distance, lunging forward and snarling, then biting and screeching.  His feet sped up.  He was trying not to trip over any misplaced branch that would end his life, but it was difficult to multi-task and his weight was shifting further and further into his heels.  He was going down.  It was only a matter of time.  He prepared himself for the end when it happened.

A hand grabbed his right shoulder, but it burned like the sun had moved and taken up residence up in his skin.  The hand flung him to the forest floor harshly.  When Dean opened his eyes, he almost believed he was dead.  There was no way…it was impossible.  James stood there in front of the beast with a hand on its disgustingly mutilated face.  A bright blue light went off.  It would have blinded Dean if he hadn’t covered his eyes in time.  He uncovered them when he heard a whimper and a thump.  He gasped at the sight before him.  Standing motionless in front of him was James, looking at him, his eyes glowing white and two enormous wings of light splayed out behind him.  The dark night enunciated his glowing halo.  Sam knelled a few paces behind the dead, burnt out body of the creature, now fully visible.  Dean searched for words he could not find.  Then James’s glow began to falter, and he stumbled.  When the lights faded from his body completely, he collapsed.  His knees fell to the ground, he swayed, and then he laid face in the dirt.

The brothers stood and waited.  They were silent for a long long while before Dean finally rushed over to James and flung his limp body over his shoulder and rushed into Rufus’s home.  Sam picked up the three swords that lay abandoned in the forest debris and followed his brother inside.  He found the two in Rufus’s room, James spread out on the bed, Dean sitting watching him with his elbows propped on his knees, his fingers laced under his chin.  They kept quiet for a moment before Dean spoke.

“What the hell was that.”


	8. Chopping Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As far as I am concerned, you have done more for me than you could have, and in all right should have. That did not stop you. I am not asking that you ‘repay a debt’ as you seem to think. I am asking a favor of a friend.”

Castiel felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as he opened his eyes.  He stared up at the thatched roof for a few moments before trying to remember what happened.  The memories all faded out after he began walking towards Dean, feeling no fear of the disgusting hellish beast.  He turned his head and found himself staring up into Dean’s unnaturally green eyes.  He opened his mouth to say something, but the hunter’s gaze made the words catch in his throat.  He was so focused on Dean that he barely registered Sam’s hulking form standing behind his brother.

“James,” Dean said slowly.  There was a dark trepidation in his voice, like he wasn’t sure if he should be angry or not.  “Is there something you want to tell us?”  Castiel opened his mouth to answer, closed it, then gaped again.  He felt like a fish starving for the ocean.  How could he explain something he didn’t even understand?

“Who are you?” Sam tried to narrow it down.  Castiel bit his lips and searched for the best way to say it.  Unfortunately Dean found his words first.

“Well, let’s see, not only does he know magic, but the guy’s got wings.   Which means he’s a descendant of the angels.  Now who do we know who’re descendants of angels, hmm?”

“Dean,” Sam warned.  Dean lip twitched angrily before he turned back to Castiel.

“So, _James_ , Which one are you, huh?  Gabriel?  Lucifer?”

“Castiel.”  He stared at his feet.  His boots were disgustingly dirty.  He found himself missing the castle and Inias and Balthazar.  He wanted to go home.

“Great.  Just great.  So we’ve been carrying the littlest angel around for the last five days.”  Dean pressed his hand into his forehead and muttered to himself as he paced.  Sam responded to Castiel’s questioning look with a shrug.  Dean stopped suddenly, gave Castiel a glare, and then pushed his way out of the room.

Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other.  “Sorry about him, he’s just, uh, frustrated right now.  Just give him a while to digest it.”

“Please don’t apologize for your brother.”

“S-sorry.”  They sat in silence for a few moments.  Castiel tried to get his breathing even while Sam gathered his courage.  The prince could see the questions forming on the hunter’s brow.

“Sam, there is no need to hold your thoughts.  Nothing has changed.”  Sam let out a breath and gave an awkward smile.

“I just wanted to know why you said you didn’t know how to use magic.”

“I don’t.  I thought I had no magic.”

“But you’re one of the Crown.  Don’t you all have magic?”

“I have never showed a capacity for it until now.  I was a child born against the better judgment of the mages.”

“That’s…strange.”  Castiel nodded in agreement.  He licked his lips before asking Sam his own question.

“What happened, exactly?  I don’t remember much.”  Sam sighed loudly and scooted a chair closer to the bedside as he sat.

“Well, you practically turned into a supernova and smote the crap out of whatever the hell that wolf thing was.”

~

Dean slammed the door on his way out.  How could he have ever let himself get duped so hard?  The prince?  _The prince?_ How had he missed that?  His father was deathly ill.  Three brothers and a sister.  An unused, highly embellished sword.  Little to no social experience.  Everything pointed directly to royalty.  He wandered into the front yard to the place Castiel had burned the beast inside out and looked at the singed ground.  Sam had moved the body farther into the forest so the smell of decaying flesh wouldn’t attract more attention from the forest’s creatures.

The grass was crispy and brown in the early morning sunlight.  A single blooming lily grew from the center of the death site, strong green stem holding a six-petaled white flower.  He whistled once and waited for the sound of hooves.  Once Baby and Ford both trotted into the clearing around the house, he led them into Rufus’s shit of a stable.  He unsaddled them and filled the troughs before grabbing a few of the more valuable saddlebags and re-entering the house.  A freaking prince.  They had almost killed a freaking prince!  He combed his hand through his hair and groaned angrily.  He needed to chop some wood for a fire.  That would help him relax.

~

It took a few hours for Castiel to regain enough strength to stand.  According to Sam, for someone who had never used magic, Castiel had expended more energy than he should have even had.  Sam came in at one point with some fresh chicken (from Rufus’s stores), a boiled potato, and some leaves of salad.  Castiel thanked him and ate heartily.  He swore to himself that nothing had eaten in all his days at the castle had ever tasted so good.  He heard some thumps and a cracking sound and sat straight as an arrow, completely alarmed.  Sam soothed him, saying, “That’s just Dean.  He chops wood when he’s stressed.”

Castiel didn’t understand why Dean was so upset.  His status didn’t change anything.  He still needed to get back to Celeta at a very specific time.  He still needed their help and would be willing to reward them for it.  He almost felt guilty.  Sam left to start on mid-day meal when Castiel decided it would be a good idea to confront Dean.  He stumbled out to the rickety porch and found the hunter near the old ramshackle stable.  He wore no shirt or armor, stripped down to his trousers and leather boots.  Castiel faltered.  Was this appropriate?  He had no clue what situations like this called for.  The only other people he’d ever seen in such a state were his brothers and sister.  None of them had this effect though.  Gabriel was muscular, but had a bit of fat that clung to his ribs and stomach from all the sweets he snuck out of the kitchen.  Michael and Lucifer were well built as too, and Anael had a beautiful figure.  But as Castiel watched Dean raise the ax over his head, he couldn’t help but watch the sweat drip down the hunter’s back.  Castiel hated himself for letting his eyes linger.

“Hello Dean,” he coughed out.  Dean’s head whipped around as he almost lost his grip on the ax mid-swing.

“Jesus Christ!  Would it kill you to clear your throat or something?”

“Apologies.”

“Whatever.”  Dean threw his arms back over his head and let the ax fall with a crack.  The log that had stood there a moment before fell away in two pieces and Dean replaced it with another whole log.

“I wanted to speak with you.”  Castiel had no idea where to start.  He’d never had to speak with someone outside the palace, and even when he had, he’d had his siblings to speak for him.  He was not a man of many words.

“Well congratulations, you’re doing just that.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  Dean smacked the ax down again, and this time the action was so powerful the sharp blade got lodged in the cutting block.  Dean tried to pull it out, but then gave up and began removing his gloves.  He faced Castiel as he did so.

“Alright, what is that you want to speak to me about?”  Castiel clenched his jaw at how little of Dean’s emotion played in his voice.  The prince couldn’t gage his reaction, and therefore did not know which tone he should take himself.  He decided that cordiality would be best.

“I simply wanted to thank you for helping me despite the trouble it has caused you.”  Watching Dean carefully, Castiel took a shaky step forward.  Dean crossed his arms.  The hunter suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

“Yeah, okay.  You’re welcome.”

“And I wanted to know if you would be willing to help me further.”

“I don’t get much of a choice, now do I?”

“You do.”  Dean’s eyes widened a bit as though this was news to him.  “I am surprised no one has informed you.  Neither Celeta nor Dema have any claim on the Between Woods.  Those who live here have no allegiance to either crown; this is a place of vigilante justice.”  Dean unhooked one of his arms and rubbed his forehead.

“Yeah yeah, I know all that, but it still just doesn’t…”  He looked up to the sky and grunted angrily.  “That’s not how my family works.  We make a mistake, we fix it.  No questions asked, and we see it through to the end.”

“Valiant, but unnecessary in this case.”  Castiel felt his blood rushing to his head.  The ground seemed unsteady for a moment before he shook his head and relearned his surroundings.

“How do you figure?”

“As far as I am concerned, you have done more for me than you could have, and in all right should have.  That did not stop you.  I am not asking that you ‘repay a debt’ as you seem to think.  I am asking a favor of a friend.”  He should have probably eaten more of the meal Sam had given him, or perhaps waited another hour before confronting Dean.  The world was swimming in and out of focus and the pounding in his ears was bordering on unbearable.  He tried to regain his balance with another step forward.

“Hey princess, you alright?”  Dean actually sounded concerned for him.

“I’m fine.”  He tried to move his foot again, but found the ground coming to meet him.

“Whoa there,” Dean caught him around the middle just before his legs gave out completely.  “If you don’t keep fainting around me, I’m going to assume that you’re susceptible to my good looks and quick wit,” Dean didn’t know if he was teasing as he said it.  Castiel’s reaction was limited, and he went cross-eyed for a moment.  He couldn’t tell if Dean had forgiven him, but he decided to play along.

“I had hoped that once you realized who I was, I would receive a little more respect,” Castiel mumbled as Dean set him upright.

“What can I say,” Dean shrugged, “I have a problem with authority.”

“I’ve said what I must.  I think I’ll be going back to bed now.”  Castiel attempted to turn around but saw strange blinking spots flying around his sight.  For a moment we found himself pondering fireflies before he realized Dean had lifted the prince’s arm over his unclothed shoulders and was guiding him towards the door.

~

When Sam returned to check on the prince, he found Dean sitting with his bare back to the door, his chair turned so he could rest his arms and chin on the backrest.  Prince Castiel lay in the bed, buried in the tartan and patchwork blankets.   Sam smirked from the door frame and let out a low whistle.  Dean jerked in his chair from the surprise, then tossed an angry snarl over his shoulder.

“Who would have thought that Dean Winchester would fall for a prince?”

“Oh shut up, you pansy.”

“Wow, not even a curse.  What’s got you all thinking about stuff?”  Sam loved it when he had a chance to tease Dean.  After a childhood of “I’m the oldest, so I’m in charge,” it felt nice to have a little leverage over the older man.

“Don’t you have some sewing or hair-braiding to do?”

“Actually,” Sam flipped his loose hair in an overly effeminate way, “I just took it out of braids for a little breathing time.  Looks nice, don’t you think?”

“Whatever.”

Sam’s smile faded from teasing to understanding.  He chuffed Dean on the shoulder before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking to have an in depth conversation.  He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Dean silenced him.

“Oh no, we are not having a touchy feely display.  Not while there’s another man in the room, sleeping _or_ conscious.”  Sam just rolled his eyes and continued.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Well, he’s got two days, right?”

“He said first market day, so…yeah, two days.”

“Alright, it takes a day to get to the Celeta gates, and then there’s the matter of getting the gates open,” Dean started, “Crap, how are we going to do that?”

“Same way we always do, Dean.  Through the East entrance?  That’s closer to the markets anyhow.”

“Right, so that means we gotta add another half day to the trip.”  Sam frowned at Dean’s scrunched up expression.  The older hunter dragged a hand through his stubble and sighed at the sleeping prince.

“Then it’s only a few hours to the marketplace,” Sam continued for him.

“Yeah, so we’ll have a couple hours to kill in the city to try and contact Bobby.”

“Okay,” Sam conceded, nodding, “This sounds like it’s gonna work.”

“Yeah, but we both know that means it’s all gonna go to hell.”

“Have a little faith, would you?”

Dean just huffed at him in disbelief as he stood, swung the chair back around correctly and left the floor boards creaking in his wake.  Sam took his seat and stared intently at the prince.  He was surprised that Dean hadn’t pressed about Prince Castiel’s reasons for being here.  Honestly, Sam could not think of a single good reason for the prince to be in the forest alone.  He’d said his brothers wanted him dead because he was getting a fortune, but in light of his true identity, it seemed far-fetched.  They were princes for God’s sake!  They already had fortunes!  Sam shook his head.  They could focus on that once Prince Castiel was awake.


	9. Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a lull in the conversation, Sam brought his brows together in thought. He opened his mouth before looking at the ground and fire. He tried again, and failed. Finally he steeled himself enough to ask:
> 
> “Prince Castiel, why are you in the Between Woods?”

Castiel woke to a scream and some laughter.  He hadn’t known what to expect when he found the brothers, but the scene he stumbled upon was definitely not the sight he’d attempted to predict.

They were out back behind the house, near the stables.  Castiel had never seen such a contraption before.  It was sort of like the large basins he’d noticed the lower classes use for bathing, only smaller and wooden.  The brown shiny exterior was held together with metal rings and steam rose steadily from the water within the barrel-like tub.  Dean was dripping wet and half hanging out over the edge facing Castiel while Sam crouched by the ground warming his hands with the fire beneath the wash basin.

“I fucking hate you,” Dean said brokenly.

“You said hotter, I just gave you what you wanted,” Sam snarked back at him.  Dean lifted his torso and straightened up while he ran a hand through his saturated hair.  He noticed Castiel on the back porch and settled back on the edge of the tub with his arms below his chin.  He had a crooked smirk pulling his lips.

“Well look who it is.”

“Oh, Prince Castiel, you’re awake.”  Sam stood and gave a small head bow of respect.  When Castiel returned it, Sam bent his knees again and plopped back onto his bottom next to the tub.  Castiel approached cautiously, uncertain of whether he was allowed near.  In the palace, baths were usually rather private, but neither of the brothers seemed too irked or uncomfortable about his presence.  The older hunter had closed his eyes, almost looking content in the water.  Sam just prodded the fire to keep it going every once in a while.   The prince made sure to inspect the thing thoroughly before settling himself on the ground next to Sam.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is this?”

“Bath tub,” Sam replied.

“It was Sam’s turn next, but if you want you can have it when I’m done,” Dean called.  The water stirred and splashed as Dean turned to face his brother and the prince.  Castiel glanced at Sam, who only shrugged before declining Dean’s offer.

“But if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t object to waiting until Sam is done,” Castiel slowly said.  Sam bobbed his head in agreement.  There was a small silence that hung in the air.  Castiel took the opportunity to gaze out at their surroundings.  Old Knight Turner’s stable was dilapidated at best.  The wood was rotting, and Castiel could see Ford and Baby shifting within.  The trees stood in a nice curve about twenty paces from the porch, giving the clearing an almost field-like quality.  The ground was chilly like the crisp air and the smell of dirt and smoke hung to the brisk wind.  Had the forest not been teeming with deadly, other-worldly creatures, Castiel might have even found himself liking the thicket.  Castiel fiddled with a twig next to him spot on the forest floor.

There was the trill of water dripping so the prince looked up.  Dean stood in the wood tub reaching for a piece of cloth from Sam.  The fabric looked uncomfortable and scratchy, but Dean fluffed up his hair regardless.  Castiel looked at the twig he twirled between his thumb and forefinger.  He offered up a silent prayer that by the time he looked up, Dean was wearing pants and Sam was already in the tub.

“And make sure the fire doesn’t go out,” Sam chided, like it had happened before.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just use your magic to heat the water,” Dean rolled his eyes in response.

“That’s not how magic works.”  Castiel had a feeling that Sam was just covering for his own lack of experience, but said nothing.  Dean seemed to let it go too.  He dragged a plain white shirt over his head and shrugged into the shoulders.  He settled quietly beside Castiel.  The sound of chirping crickets wafted in from the surrounding trees and for a moment, the forest didn’t have a miasma of death about it. Dean readjusted his shoulders and sighed.

“Hey Sammy when you’re finished, you wanna heal me up again?  This burn doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”

“Dean, I’m exhausted.  I used a lot of both of our energies to try and heal that thing.  It was probably made by something with greater magic than I.  You’ll have to wait until we get to Celeta for a healer.”

Castiel looked between them.  What were they talking about?  When had Dean been burnt?

“You’re hurt?” Castiel asked.  Dean turned his head to face him and nodded.

“You gotta see this.  It’s really weird.  That stupid-ass hell hound must have done something, I don’t know,” he babbled as he rolled up his left sleeve.  Sam peered over the edge of the tub at them.

“Hell hound?  Is that what that thing was?  I thought it was some kind of nasty werewolf or shifter.”

“Nah, I read about them last night.  Cas gave me a description, and they happened to match it.”

Prince Castiel was too busy staring at Dean’s shoulder to register any of what they were saying.  The skin was red and raw, raised slightly from the muscle of Dean’s bicep.  It was almost… Castiel had never been the best at social graces, but he knew as he lifted his arm that he was absolutely breaking every interpersonal boundary in existence.  He didn’t care though.  Dean grew quiet when he felt Cas’s hand brush his skin.  The burn was almost a perfect match.  He could feel a thrum of power when his hand lay fully on the mark.  Dean must have felt it too because he jumped at the contact.  Dean lowered his face to stare at Castiel.  The prince swallowed thickly and pulled away.

“I am sorry.”  He fixed his eyes on the ground.  Dean glanced at the mark on his arm, then at Castiel, then back at his arm before sighing dramatically.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  Castiel had expected anger more than the exasperation in Dean’s comment.  “Well if a royal did this to me, that means I’m gonna have to get a more powerful royal to heal it.  Fantastic.”

“I’m sure Anael will be willing to help you,” Castiel tried to console.  Dean’s eyes flew to the sky as he shook his head and unrolled his sleeve.

“You want me to give you two some privacy?” came Sam’s smug jab.  Castiel didn’t understand his tone and replied in question.

“Shouldn’t we be the ones to give you privacy while you bathe?”  Sam stared at him for a moment before suddenly laughing.  Dean chuckled beside him and he turned to ask, “Did I say something humorous?”

“Nah, Cas, but your face was priceless,” smiled Dean.  He playfully pushed on Castiel’s shoulder.  The prince didn’t know why, but he found the gesture warm and welcoming rather than inappropriate as he ought to.  He was a prince, they should give him the respect he was entitled to; that seemed to have little influence on these hunters.  They were crass and earthy, but loyal and kind.  Castiel felt himself smile as the sun started setting.

~

Sam stayed behind to clean the water and re-stoke the fire using magic.  Dean left to go start supper so it would be finished by the time they were all clean.  Castiel felt much better after washing a week’s worth of forest-grime off his skin.  Sam gave him some of the brothers’ older clothes to dress in while they cleaned his other more regal garments.  Sam also said it would help Castiel blend in once they got to the city.  They emptied the tub then put out the fire.  They flipped the wooden barrel over and rolled it behind the stable.  Dean reappeared with some plates of steaming food for them not too long after that.  He relit the fire to Sam’s grumblings of “We just put that out!”, and all three of them sat around exchanging stories.  Dean and Sam tried to out-humiliate the other, from Sam telling of how he’d caught Dean dancing with a broom when he was eight to Dean talking about the time he’d found Sam attracting a little too much of male attention in the taverns, not because the men liked _him_ , but because they had thought he was a woman.  And then one had tried to feel him up, and Sam punched every single one of the lechers out in a fit of drunken rage.  Sam hid his face behind his hand as Dean smacked him on the back and laughed.

Castiel mainly spoke about Gabriel and Anael’s antics.  The two, particularly Gabriel, had a habit of getting into trouble.  Anael tended to do so by breaking Mother’s rules; she’d go into the market without an escort, or practice dancing instead of archery, or use her magic to decorate the halls.  Gabriel, of course, was out to trick and deceive as many people as possible.  One of his favorites was switching the salt and sugar in the kitchen.  Once, it had taken a full week for the cooks to realize why all their dishes had come out so disgustingly.  But that was nothing compared to the time he’d dressed up as a woman for a month.  There had been a kingdom wide panic at the thought of losing one of their princes, when really, Gabe was just pretending to be one of Anael’s Ladies in waiting, and trying to seduce his brother Michael.  The saddest part was that he had only broken character when Michael had tried to kiss him.  Dean laughed outright at that story.  Sam tried to hide his laugh behind his hand and talked about the time _Dean_ had been forced to dress as a woman as part of a disguise.  Dean pushed him over, sending his food all over the ground, but Sam couldn’t stop laughing.

At a lull in the conversation, Sam brought his brows together in thought.  He opened his mouth before looking at the ground and fire.  He tried again, and failed.  Finally he steeled himself enough to ask:

“Prince Castiel, why are you in the Between Woods?”  Castiel felt his jaw clench.  He licked his lips and set his plate down beside him.  He knew this would happen eventually, but he’d been hoping to put it off for as long as possible.  When he glanced up, he saw that both brothers were watching him expectantly.

“My father is ill, as I told you,” he began.  They nodded and looked a little uncomfortable.  “And he had his will drawn up recently.  That much is true.  My brothers are also out for my head.  I wasn’t lying.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re out here.  What could possibly so important to your brothers that they would want to kill their own family?”

“Th-the throne.”  Castiel braced himself for a sudden change in demeanor.  He hated to admit it to himself, but he liked the way the hunters treated him.  It was just a little more familiar than the way the servants addressed him.  It was comforting.  Now that they knew he was the heir, he expected them to close off like any peasant would.  Instead, Dean just said, “Shit,” and Sam only gaped.

“That’s weird,” Dean commented around his bit of potato.  “Why didn’t Michael get the king deal?  Isn’t he the oldest?”

“Yes, but apparently, my father disdains how conservative and stubborn he is.”

“What about Lucifer?” Sam questioned, “Wouldn’t he be the next choice?”

“Lucifer is unstable.  Even I know that.  He doesn’t think before he acts, and often refuses to admit his mistakes.  It is no secret that he is unfit to be a king.”

“And I’m assuming that Gabriel and Aneal have no desire to rule.”

“Neither do I,” Castiel said.  He could feel anger floating up in his stomach like smoke.  “I prefer the library to the reception hall and time to myself over the parties and balls my mother is always throwing.  I wanted to succeed Metatron as the King’s scribe.  My brothers are too power hungry and competitive to see that.  So they decided that the best way to get rid of the threat to their throne permanently was to kill me.”

“That’s messed up,” replied Dean.

“Not completely.  I am not very close to Michael or Lucifer.  To them I am probably the equivalent of an influential lord.  It is likely that they don’t even see me as their brother.”

“So what happens when you get back then?  Are they still going to be after you?” asked Sam.  He had a concerned undertone to the curiosity in his voice.

“Gabriel will have calmed them down by then.  He is rather gifted in persuasion.”

“I sure hope so.  It’d be a shame to hear they got that pretty little head of yours on a platter,” Dean commented off handedly.  Castiel didn’t know what to make of the comment, so he said nothing.  Sam gathered their plates and Dean began to smother the fire.  Castiel headed back inside to prepare himself for bed when the brothers insist he have an after-supper-drink with them.  Castiel wasn’t one for liquor, but he obliged them anyway.  He took one drink and scrunched his nose at the burn of ale down his throat.  Dean thought the look was humorous and laughed heartily at it.  Cas tried to redeem himself by downing it quickly and asking for another.   Dean warned him to slow down in a playful tone.  Castiel ignored him and chugged the ale Sam poured for him.  They all sat in what Dean and Sam referred to as Rufus’s hall.  There were two chairs, which Sam let Dean and Cas have while he sat on the ground.  They fell back into conversation, the brothers feeling the effect of their ale.  Castiel was surprised he wasn’t as hazy as the hunters.  He had assumed that since he didn’t drink very often, his tolerance would be low.  He disregarded it as they spoke.

Sam stood about an hour later.  The dark settling outside was finally finding its way into the house.  The man stretched and said good night before wobbling into the small bedroom he and Dean would be sharing.  Castiel stood as well.  He felt nice, despite his situation.  Dean had used his flint stones to spark a fire earlier and it glowed lightly as its embers slowly died.

“Good night, Dean.”

“’Night, Cas,” the hunter said drowsily.  He stood, gave a wobbly bow, and then walked through the doorway Sam had disappeared in a few minutes prior.  Prince Castiel watched him go before turning towards his own door.

He fell asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow and did not dream.


	10. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas didn’t speak for the rest of the journey, and the brothers seemed to take their tone from him. Castiel began counting the number of trees they passed, but gave up after 253. Then he tried counting the freckles on the back of Dean’s neck. It was much easier, since these didn’t whizz past. He got around seventy-six before they stopped for supper.

The next morning flew by.  Sam and Dean were already awake and packing by the time he woke.  Surprisingly, he felt no cloud over his mind.  He was as clear and lucid as he was in the daytime.  He dressed himself, placing his blue brooch at his throat carefully.  He could hear the opening and closing of the front door and Dean dictating orders to his brother.  He almost ran into Sam when he opened the door into the hall.

“Whoa!  Excuse me, your majesty!”  Sam set him upright and hurried off.  Castiel didn’t know why, but the title disconcerted him.  It made him want to scratch all over.  It wasn’t right.  He shook the thought from his mind and went to the kitchen.  Dean had a bag over his shoulder and was tossing some potatoes into another that rested on the wooden floorboards.  Castiel remembered what Dean had said about turning up out of nowhere, so he coughed lightly.  Dean’s head whipped around and he smiled.

“Perfect, here take this.”  The hunter shrugged off the caramel-colored bag and held it out to him.  Castiel took it wordlessly.  He didn’t think much on the way towards the door, but when he reached out for the handle, he paused.  For a moment he was scared out of his mind.  Two out of the three times he’d ever been in the woods, something had attacked him.  He didn’t want that.  He shuddered before shoving his phobia down under a lacquer of princely pride, just as he did before entering the Grand Hall at every social event he was compelled to attend.  He strode into the clearing and tossed the bag to Sam.  The horses stood ready, all saddled up and snorting in the cold.  Dean made a bee-line to Baby and began cooing at her.  She whipped her long black mane around a bit before nuzzling at the hand he held out for her.  He threw his leg over her back and settled into the saddle before reaching out to Cas.  He took the glove and plopped down into place behind Dean.

He balked again.  He still had no idea where to put his hands, and he was not looking forward to numb hands after aother day of riding.  The brothers were back in their hunting gear, Dean in his green leather vest and pauldron, Sam in his mail and greaves.  Castiel tentatively rested his hands on Dean’s waist.  The hunter didn’t seem to notice, and by the time they reached the trees, Castiel felt a little more at ease with this compromising position.

No doubt if Gabriel were to see him on the back of such an attractive man’s horse, the teasing and innuendos would never end.   It had happened on his stay in Dema when he was young, and it had taken years for Gabriel to forget about it.  He only hoped that no one would recognize their prince once they entered the city’s gates.  He sighed and bowed his head startled when the crown of his head met the back of Dean’s neck.  The hunter only chuckled when Cas pulled back with a snort.  Cas could feel the ice creeping over his veins as Dean tossed a sly smile over his shoulder.

“If you two are gonna do that, I’m out of here,” Sam said sardonically.  Dean only let out a soft laugh, and the chill in Cas’s arms melted as his cheeks heated.

“Come off it Sammy,” Dean called back, “It’s not like we’re fucking each other.”  Castiel felt his grip tighten on Dean’s waist and more blood rush to his face.  Sam snorted as if to say, “You kind of were,” but he settled for “Whatever,” and whipped Ford’s reins twice.  Baby followed without coaxing, and soon the horses were racing each other in a sort of air-fueled exhilaration.

Castiel didn’t realize how close to the cave they were until they actually reached it.  While journeying through the darkness, rough chipped walls only illuminated by the torch Sam lit, they had some dried pork and boiled eggs.  Castiel decided he didn’t like hard boiled eggs.

The cave was much warmed than the air outside.  He shuddered when he thought of all the farmers who would be out this time of year to harvest their crops.  He much preferred the heat the castle offered at this time of year.  He suddenly found himself wondering.  That tended to happen when he had nothing to read, or nothing to say.  He wondered about everything from why his magic had randomly decided to show itself to which turret he was going to throw Gabriel off of for this ridiculous plan of his.  He decided the roof of the keep might just be high enough.

“I have a question,” he started quietly.

“What is it, Prince?” Sam asked back.  Castiel knew he flinched visibly when Sam addressed him as such, and he instantly regretted the involuntary action.

“Why is there a cave in the middle the forest?  And why is it behind a waterfall?  Doesn’t that seem a bit cliché?”

Sam laughed and Dean replied with, “Something to do with nature I think,” before rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“There’s a legend about it,” Sam smiled.

“Of fucking course there is,” Dean rolled his eyes in response.  Sam just continued.

“Hunters say that when King Raphael was still in power, he wanted an easier way to Dema, since he was planning to invade.  The path they took back before the cave was winding and arduous.  But when the masons tried to excavate, they found that the mountain was the home of a wood nymph, and they couldn’t shake her blessing no matter how much black powder they used.”

“No,” Castiel said under his breath.

“What?” Dean glanced over his shoulder.  “What’s the  matter?”

“That must have been why he enslaved the fairies,” Castiel said to himself.  Sam gave him a confused look.

“Well, yeah, that’s actually the next part of the story.  How’d you know that?”

“Fairies are the only ones who can build on nymph’s ground.  And I knew that he’d enslaved them for a time, but there are no records as to why.  And that invasion that he’d planned turned into a massacre, didn’t it?”

Sam nodded and continued his story, “The King commanded that no man, woman, child, or creature escape the blade.  They turned the farmlands into an inferno, but when they reached the castle, Knight Abbadon turned the tides and destroyed the entire battalion.”

“That woman…” Castiel thought to himself, “She’s not human.”

“Well, hell, I could’a told you that,” Dean groaned.  “The woman’s been alive since King Raphael was in power!  That was what?  Over a hundred years ago?”

“No, I mean she’s not a benevolent creature.  She is cold in the most disturbing of ways,” Castiel tried his hardest to explain, but it was just something about the General of Dema that was indescribable.  It was the same kind of thing as the forest, he realized, like it was waiting until you were unaware of the danger to strike.  Her red hair and lips flashed in his mind, her cruel mouth turning into an awful smirk.  He shuddered.

“Well, human or not, good girl or bad, you can’t deny that she’s a hell of a knight,” Dean pointed out.

“The best.”  Castiel let out a long breath.  They trio was quiet for the rest of the journey through the cave.  Castiel went back to guessing at what his siblings were doing at this very moment; his mind wondered onto what these brothers were thinking of.  Was Dean thinking about Baby?  Or food?  Was Sam pondering the other faults of Raphael’s rule?  God knew there were enough to fill a book: Castiel had actually read four of such nature.  He counted the unsteady beat of the horses’ hooves against the fairy-made smooth ground.  Castiel’s eyes hurt when they stepped out from behind the thundering waterfall.  He could feel the muscles in his eyes contract at the brightness.

“Wow, it’s a lot later than I thought it’d be,” Sam sighed.

Dean responded with, “Eh, we got plenty of time.”  He coughed into his glove before looking back at Castiel again, almost looking nervous.  He bit his lip before turning to watch he ground ahead of Baby.

“We’re not gonna have a house to sleep in tonight, princess.”

“What?”

“Yeah, we probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the way we’re going means we won’t be stopping at Bobby’s.”  Dean shrugged.  There was an uncomfortable twinge in his voice.

“Oh,” was all the prince could manage.  Sam hopped off Ford and washed off some apples in the river.  Dean slid down off Baby as well.  As Sam fed the horses the fruit, Dean splashed some water on his face.  Once Cas joined them on the ground, they decided to take lunch.  It was gruel again, no bacon this time.  Dean couldn’t help but laugh when Cas gagged as he ate his portion.

Cas didn’t speak for the rest of the journey, and the brothers seemed to take their tone from him.  Castiel began counting the number of trees they passed, but gave up after 253.  Then he tried counting the freckles on the back of Dean’s neck.  It was much easier, since these didn’t whizz past.  He got around seventy-six before they stopped for supper.

The sun’s rays disappeared in the unfamiliar trees around them.  Dean and Sam sat on two boulders while Cas sat on a fallen tree a few feet away.  Sam had cooked up some potatoes and turnips, and insisted on adding some leaves of cabbage he’d pulled from Rufus’s stores.  When Dean had finished his bowl of boiled roots, he began shaking what looked to be sand around the extremely small clearing.  When Sam noticed Castiel’s confusion, he told the prince, “Salt.  Keeps the bad stuff out.”  Castiel nodded.  He’d read about certain substances like goofer dust, so he understood.  Then Sam rose and unpacked two of the bags on Ford’s rear.  He spread out the straw mats and blankets.

“Two hour shifts?” Dean asked.

“Sounds good.  Wake me up when it’s my turn.”  Sam unpacked one more bag off his horse before snuggling down under the pile of threadbare sheets.  Dean stared at Castiel for a few moments before glancing at the other pile of blankets waiting for a body.

“You gonna sleep, or…?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Oh God, if you two start this up again, I’m going to throw myself into the fire.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“I don’t understand.  What are we doing?”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Dean smiled.  Sam just rolled his eyes and turned so his back was towards the flames.

Half an hour into the shift, Sam’s snores were the only thing audible over the crackle of the flames.  Castiel watched Dean’s back and shoulders jerk as he whittled something with his hunting knife.  He wanted to say something, start some sort of conversation and interact with the hunter, but he had no idea where to begin.  He was terrible at conversing to begin with, and now he felt even ore flustered with his lack of social grace.  Luckily, as he was berating himself, Dean saw an opportunity in the sky.

“You awake, Cas?”  The prince jumped out of his stupor and grunted in affirmation.  “You ever see the stars from the castle?”

“Yes, the view from the atrium is excellent.”

“Hmm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just been a really long time since I’ve seen them unobstructed, you know?”

“Why is that?”  Dean huffed out a laugh and turned to face the prince.

“Okay, well you see, Sam and I didn’t exactly have the most normal childhood.  And before you ask, ‘How so?’ or some other stupid question, I’ll get to that later.  Long story short though, Sam and I were practically raised in these woods.”

“The trees,” Castiel surmised.  He glanced around at the leaves, only illuminated in the golden light of the fire.  Their trunks disappeared in the night’s shadows, making the foliage look like glowing clouds.

“Yeah, they’re pretty and all during the day, I guess, but at night time they block out the sky.”  He put the wood and knife own to blow into his hands and shiver a little.  “You wanna grab me a blanket or something?” the hunter asked.  Castiel rose, took a piece the thickest piece of fabric he could and handed it to Dean.  The man patted on the rock next to him.  “C’mon, take a seat.  It’s harder to talk to you if you’re behind me.”

They sat in silence for a while.  Castiel tested Dean’s theory about the sky, and could only see a smattering of stars beyond the gold lighted leaves.  He sighed and turned to find Dean staring at him.  The hunter quickly rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, almost like he was embarrassed. As time passed, Castiel felt the temperature drop and couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up his spine.

“You should get some sleep.  You’ve got a big day tomorrow, what with reuniting with your half-murderous family and all.”

“I suppose.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled.”

“Well, would you want to go back, if you were in my place?”  Dean shrugged uncomfortably and stood.  Castiel copied and rose to his feet.

“Between the woods and my family, I’d have to choose my family.”

Castiel sighed but nodded.  He knew he had to go back, but there was still a knot of worry in his stomach.  As he walked to his designated pile of straw mat and sheet, Dean changed his position so he faced the other side of the salt circle.

“Good night, Dean.”

“’Night, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I just want to thank everybody who's given kudos or bookmarked this story or subscribed or even just read it! I really appreciate you and I hope you're enjoying it so far. I also want to say that nothing really happens in this chapter but it's important for exposition and set up, so I hope you understand.
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much! <3


	11. The Roadhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean let out a deep breath as he shut the door. He had not meant to let that much slip. Castiel was a prince who only cared about getting home, and yet here Dean was unloading family issues on him like they were close friends instead of the royalty Cas was. Not to mention the fact that he was also the heir apparent. Heading down the stairs, Dean rubbed his knuckle on the crease between his eyebrows. He just needed to get Cas back to his siblings, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about the poor guy anymore.

The walls loomed over their heads like giants.  Seventy paces to each side of them stood the lookout towers, connected with warm tan brick work.  Castiel felt anticipation curling in his belly along with a nervous ribbon of fear.  The morning had been quick.  He hadn’t heard the brothers switching shifts in the night, and when he woke, Dean was preparing eggs and gruel for breakfast.  They ate in silence, mounted their horses, and rode on fast towards the Eastern Gate.  Castiel had never needed to use the secondary gates, but he’d heard about them and their rather over-sold glory.  This gate, in contrast to the large creaking doors of the North and South Gates, was barely large enough for Baby and Ford to fit through together, and only rose halfway up the side of the stone structure.  No one used these gates but hunters, immigrants, and vagabonds, and as such, there were only two guards standing watch on the interior of the wall.

“Halt in the name of King Charles!  State your names and business!”  The guard was rather short, and her face was barely visible under her silver visor.  The other guard, a taller man with a broad nose and full lips pointed a sword at the trio.

“Dean, Sam, and Adam.  Hunters on a case.”

“What are you hunting?” the man spoke carefully.  Dean noticed he pulled his visor lower over his face.  Strange.

“Demon,” Dean smiled.  Both guards went rigid and lowered their weapons.  The woman shifted and for a moment the two conferred.

“Proceed,” the woman finally commanded.

“Have a good day!” the older hunter called over his shoulder playfully.

“You too!” the woman back.  The man elbowed her and she grunted in pain.  Dean huffed a small laugh.

Castiel’s legs were beginning to twitch.  He couldn’t wait to see his siblings again, but what if Gabriel had failed?  How could he possibly convince those two headstrong idiots that Castiel wanted no part of the throne?  The prince worried his lower lip and curled his fingers tighter around Dean’s waist.  What he wouldn’t give for a carriage.  He was used to horse-riding of course, but after three days on his rear, his back was killing him.  He was glad he was wearing his cincher since it reduced slouching and held his innards correctly.  He wondered how the brothers managed this sort of ride for weeks on end.  He was so wrapped in his own mind that he thankfully missed their pass through the lower quarter.  By the time he became aware of their surroundings, they had found their way into the barter stalls of the market place.  It was still relatively early, but that only meant there was a flurry of fabric and shouting.

Many of the stalls had black banners or covers over their usually vibrant market tops.  There were all sorts of people running to and fro about the booths: peasants hoping for some bread, children bringing their parents goods to sell, smiths yelling to their apprentices, aristocrats on their horses, looking down at everyone else.  A chicken flew under Baby’s feet, and she stamped and whinnied until Dean rubbed a calming hand over her neck.  Castiel hated market days.

“Now which tavern are you supposed to meet your family in?” Dean asked.

“The Roadhouse.”  Both brothers sat up and looked at Castiel in a confused manner.  “What’s wrong?  Did I say something strange?”

“N-no, It’s just that-” Sam stumbled over his words as Ford picked his way through a crowd of children.  “That’s where Adam is.  And Jo and Ellen and Pam.”

“Pam,” Dean smiled.  “Can’t wait to see her.”

“ _Sleep_ with her,” Sam corrected.

“Why do you keep trying to whore me out, eh Sammy?  First Cas, now Pam?  When will it end?”

“What?” Castiel had no clue what these two were giggling about.  Dean hadn’t “whored out” to him.  What did Dean mean by that?

“Don’t worry about it, princess.”  The horses followed their riders’ requests and turned down a less crowded alleyway.  A few maids were emptying some water basins in the gutters, and Dean nodded at them in acknowledgement.  It was much less stressful here.  Cas sighed and leaned his head against the back of Dean’s neck on accident.  He didn’t know why he did it; he probably just forgot where he was and was so relieved to be out of the market.  Dean didn’t make any move to push him away though, so Cas didn’t pull back.  He was so worked up about today that he was starting to become lethargic and foggy.

With Baby’s rhythmic steps and the smell of earth and hickory and sweat, Cas felt the dark edge of sleep moving in to take over his consciousness.

~

“Cas, wake up buddy.”  Castiel didn’t recognize the voice, but the shape in front of him as Dean’s face.  He yawned and shut his eyes hoping to wake up back in his bare room, Gabriel bursting in and begging him to help hide a kelpie egg.  “C’mon, Cas.  Up and at ‘em.”  The grumbling tenor finally registered in the prince’s ears so he grunted and stretched his arms out in front of him.  He realized that he was inside from the smell.  Apples and cinnamon and a scent he couldn’t quite place.  Maybe rosemary?  It didn’t matter.

“What time is it?”

“You slept through mid-day meal.  Luckily, Ellen didn’t see me sneak some out for you.”  Castiel sat up straight.

“I was asleep that long?”

“Yeah.  You want steak and bread or potatoes and chicken?”

“Steak,” he responded drowsily.  He rubbed a hand over his eyes.  They still had a long time before he needed to find Anael.  What did commoners do to pass the time?  He was almost tempted to ask Dean, but a plate got shoved into his hands before he could speak again.  He took the food gratefully while Dean ate the meal he’d declined.  “Dean, where are we?”  Castiel took careful stock of the warm wooden room around them.  He sat in a large bed, complete with a fluffy red comforter, quilted with fine silk threads.  He admired the oak paneling that echoed the warm reddish light from the candles hung on the wall. There was a large full length mirror next to the dressers, and a wash basin by the door.  There was even a painting of the city on a bright colorful market day hanging between the windows.  In short, Castiel had no idea where he was.

“Roadhouse,” Dean responded.  He shoveled some chicken into his mouth greedily.  Castiel might have been offended had he not eaten with the hunter before.

“Did you…did you wait for me?”

“Huh?”  Dean wiped his hand across his mouth to catch the grease, “Oh, yeah.  Figured you wouldn’t want to eat alone.”

“That was kind of you.  Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure.  No big deal.”

“What time is it?” he asked again.  There was still sunlight highlighting the dust that drifted past the windows, but he didn’t have a good on exactly what part of the afternoon it was.

“The candle at the bar said it was about three.”  Castiel sighed.  As much as he enjoyed being back in his kingdom, he disliked the waiting.  It felt like his skin was too tight, like he needed to get up and move and walk and throw his arms about and!  Goodness, he was antsy.  He made no move to show his discomfort, only bringing his fork to his mouth and chewing.  “When are your brother and sister supposed to show up?”

“Sometime during the night.”

“Specific.”  Castiel only shrugged in response.  There had not exactly been opportunity to plan more acutely.  Dean looked uncomfortable for a moment before asking, “Well, once Sammy gets ahold of Bobby for an update on the hunt, we can go find something to do.  If you’d like, I mean.”

“That seems acceptable.”  Castiel’s hands wanted to go now.  He almost dropped his fork.  Dean smiled wildly and stuffed another chunk of chicken in his mouth.  “I do have a question, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Shoot what?”  Castiel drew his eyebrows together in confusion.  Dean only laughed and waved his hand before prompting Castiel’s question in clearer terms.  “What exactly were you hunting?  Why did you tell the guards it was a demon of all things?”

“Well first of all, those weren’t guards.”

“What?”  Dean chuckled again at Cas’s expression.

“They were wearing old armor.  It’s silver with black cloth now for the King’s impending death, right?  They were wearing the normal uniform.  For _summer_.”  Castiel thought back to it and realized Dean was right.  “Also, their posture was all wrong, and the girl had no clue what she was doing.  They both had their visors over their faces so it’d be impossible to identify them, and those swords weren’t theirs.  Their balances were all wrong.”

Castiel looked at Dean with wide eyes.  Castiel would never have questioned their behavior or stances at all, but the more Dean talked the more he found Dean was correct.

“You are amazing,” was all he could think to say.  He immediately regretted the words, and he noticed the tips of Dean’s ears flush pink, but other than that, the hunter just grinned awkwardly.

“Uh, thanks, but not really.  It’s just how I was raised.  And Sammy’s way better at that kind of thing than I am.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh, right.  The hunt.”  Dean chewed for another moment, Castiel thanked God that he swallowed before speaking.  “We told the truth.  We are hunting a demon.”  The prince felt himself huff out a small laugh.  Then he noticed Dean wasn’t joking.

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“But demons don’t exist.  They’re just fairy tales,” Castiel was sure of it.  Absolutely sure.  He’d never seen a demon, never heard of anyone seeing one, and aside from his book of children’s tales, he’d never read any accounts of them existing.  Dean leaned forward in his chair.

“So are mermaids and unicorns, but they’re all out there, frolicking in the forest together.”  Clearing his throat, Castiel tried to wrap his mind around the idea.  “If it makes you feel any better, dragons are a bust.”  Castiel sighed as he set his plate on the ground.

“But demons?  As in creatures of darkness that possess and destroy? “

“Yup.  Nasty bastards too.  They seem drawn to Celeta, for some reason.  Sam and I take about two down every year.  All the other hunters in the woods get about three in total, so they’re pretty rare creatures, but terrifying and deadly all the same.”  Dean grabbed a mug from the floor and took a sip from it, slowly.  Castiel almost commented on how strange the hunter looked out of his armor and green vest.  He caught the words on his tongue.  “Something the matter, Cas?”

“If they’re so dangerous, why are you and your brother so intent on catching this one?  Why not let the other hunters handle it?”

“We’re hunting it _because_ it’s so dangerous,” Dean smirked.  But suddenly he was serious.  His voice’s gravel became rougher and his hands gripped around the mug tighter.  “Demons are nasty sons of bitches and I don’t want them hurting anyone else’s family the way they did ours.”

Before Castiel could think of something to say, Dean stood and gestured for Castiel to give him his plate.  That done, he walked towards the door; but then he stopped.  “When you’re feeling up to it, you should come down and get acquainted everyone.  Jo’s practically dying to meet you.”  He paused again, but added, “And if you’d like we can go into town and introduce you to some commoner’s fun.”  There was an edge of hopefulness to his voice.

“I think I’d like that.”  Castiel needed something to take his tumbling mind off the impending transaction with his siblings.  Dean offered a quick smile and the door clicked shut after him.

~

Dean let out a deep breath as he shut the door.  He had not meant to let that much slip.  Castiel was a prince who only cared about getting home, and yet here Dean was unloading family issues on him like they were close friends instead of the royalty Cas was.  Not to mention the fact that he was also the heir apparent.  Heading down the stairs, Dean rubbed his knuckle on the crease between his eyebrows.  He just needed to get Cas back to his siblings, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about the poor guy anymore.

Except Dean had practically asked him to go on a rendezvous.  “Crap,” Dean muttered under his breath.  Except Cas had accepted as if there were nothing wrong with the crown spending time with a lowly hunter.

“What’s crap?” Jo ambushed him as he stepped into the bar.  She had a pair of trousers and a puffy red shirt on.  Her hazel eyes held all sorts of questions for him, but her lips stayed closed.  It was obvious that her smart little brain was figuring out the best way to get the information without asking for it.

“You tell me,” Dean said offhandedly.  He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her.  He was in the mood for a drink.  She settled in a seat next to him and smirked.

“Sam told me about your unrequited love you know.”

“The hell?  It’s not “unrequited love.”  He’s a fucking prince, Jo.  He’s attractive, but that don’t mean a thing and you know it.”

“Pam’s not gonna wanna touch you if you’re all hung up on the prince,” she remarked, completely ignoring his denials.

“I’m not hung up-” He grit his teeth and sighed.  “Look,” he sliced the air with his hands, herding his logic between them, “ He’s an attractive man.  He’s also my responsibility at the moment, and if you think I can’t keep those two things separated, I’m surprised in your lack of faith.”  He ignored the way his hands balled up into fists and his shoulders tensed.  Jo’s smirk fell into an understanding smile.

“You know we’ve all been there Dean.  Love hurts.”  Dean hated her.  He let out a long-suffering sigh before nodding in mock acceptance.

“Thanks, Jo.”

“Anything for my idiot kid-brother.”  She stood as he protested.

“I’m older than you are by two years!  And I’m not even your brother!”  She only laughed as her blonde head disappeared through the door way to the left of the bar.

Dean took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was really back at the Roadhouse.  It had been a while since he and Sam had needed to go to the market to barter and sell, so it must have been about eight months since he’d sat in this tavern or slept in the room Ellen and Jo kept for the brothers.  The Roadhouse had been a second home to them since before they could hunt.  Often times, if their father didn’t leave them with Bobby, he’d leave Sam and Dean with Ellen.  He breathed the warm earthy air of the tavern in.  It was always a little darker than it should have been at the bar, even with two fireplaces and oil lamps at each table.  There were bottles and bottles of liquor lined up on the shelf behind the bar, and a time-teller candle burnt steadily in the shadows.

Ellen had expanded the business and building about three years ago, just before John died.  The Roadhouse served as a hotel and restaurant for travelers, specifically hunters, as well as a tavern, and for the most part the women of the place did pretty well.  Jo liked to pick pockets when they didn’t quite get the revenue they needed.  He’d wanted to see Adam, but apparently his whimp of a brother was busy courting some girl down the street.   Dean rolled his eyes and stood to follow Jo into the Harvelle’s private hall.  Ellen and Sam sat in two nice red chairs in front of a fire.  Each had a cup of something and they seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation, while Jo sat on the hearth whittling with her father’s old knife.  He figured Pam must be in the kitchen preparing for the rush sure to come with the night.

As he settled into a chair near Sam, he interrupted the quiet conversation by asking, “You contacted Bobby yet?”

”Shit,” Sam replied, standing.

“I guess that’s a no,” Ellen drawled with a raised eyebrow.  Sam huffed and strode out of the room with long, clipped steps.  He returned a few moments later with a chalice carved with cyphers and sigils around the lip.

“Jo?” he held a hand out and she passed him the knife with a roll of her eyes.  He set the chalice down and crouched near the fired place.  Clenching his teeth against the bite of the blade, he slid the knife over his forearm with great care.  The blood rolled up and beaded down his arm before dropping into the chalice.  Then he chanted under his breath and waited.  Dean hated this whole magic thing.  It made his stomach roll and his eyes twitch.  Sammy was never meant for magic.  It had been a terrible, terrible mistake on his part, and now it was irreversible.  As useful as it was in certain situations, such as now, it still made Dean’s teeth itch with discomfort.  After about a minute, Sam started speaking.

“Yeah, yeah.  No we’re at the Roadhouse now.  No, Rufus wasn’t there so we brought him with us.  Yeah, turns out he’s the prince, too.”  Sam winced as Bobby was sure to have started yelling through the ether that connected him and Sam at the moment.  “Well what were we supposed to have done?  And it’s not like he’s useless, either.  He took down a hellhound, Bobby!  Yeah, fully grown from what I could tell.  Castiel, it’s Prince Castiel…Yeah I know he’s not supposed to have magic.  He doesn’t know what happened either.”

“Ask him about the demon, Sam,” Dean insisted.  As much of a kick as he got from watching Bobby tear into someone other than himself, they needed to know how the hunt was going so they could be prepared once they met up with their surrogate parent.

“Bobby, no-” Sam rolled his neck in exasperation, “Bobby, listen!  No, stop, listen!  Has the demon reached the gates yet?  Okay, has it taken a host yet?  Okay, good, no, good.  Once the prince’s family shows up to take him back home, we’ll meet up with you.  Yeah, Ellen’s good.  So’s Jo.  Yeah, okay.  Bye.”  He picked the cup up and poured the blood into the fire.  Then he let out a long breath and scowled at Dean’s grin.

“So?” Dean asked innocently.

“Demon’s taken up residency in one of the guardsmen, but hasn’t hurt anyone yet.  Bobby’s keeping an eye on it, and the moment he sees an opening, he’s gonna exorcise it.”

Dean nodded in approval.  “Perfect.”

“Is that Dean Winchester I hear in there?” Pam’s voice came from the bar.  She strode in casually, dressed in her usual corset and trousers.  Dean stood, licking his lips before giving her a huge hug and laughing when she squeezed his rear end.  “You too, Sam,” she said after letting Dean go.  Sam smiled and stood.  Dean and Jo laughed when he let out a yelp.

“Pam!  I’ve told you to stop that!”

“Sorry, Grumpy, but that rear is just begging to get some action,” she smirked.  “How long’s it been?  Two?  Three years?”

“Two years,” Sam mumbled.  Dean saw the warning signs in Sam’s countenance.  Luckily Jo cut in with a jab in Dean’s direction.

“Be careful with Dean, he’s fragile right now, Pammy.”

“Fragile?”  Dean only just caught the sparkle in her eye as she turned to him.  Her thin pink lips quirked to the side in a devilish grin.  A shiver made its way down Dean’s spine.  “And  how might my baby boy be feeling fragile?”

“I’m not,” he protested with a smile.  Her long slim fingers traced over his cheek bones.  They held eye contact for much longer than was necessary, but Dean didn’t care.  This was how it always was between them.  All play, no seriousness, never too attached.

“Don’t let him fool you, Pam,” Sam piped up from his seat next to Ellen.  “He’s got it quite bad for Prince Castiel.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean said as he finally glanced away from the beautiful woman in front of him.  He was just glad the conversation had switched to his love life instead of Sam’s.  If that meant he had to play along with their stupid teasing, so be it.

“You should have seen the way he carried him in here, Barney,” Jo said with an affectionate wink at Pam.  “He was all concerned about not damaging the poor man, and then of all places, he decides the _Honeymoon Suite_ is the best place to put him!”  As the blood rushed to his ears, Dean can feel his shoulders locking up in embarrassment.  “Mamma just about tossed ‘im out in the street when she heard about it!”

“Aw, but Dean wouldn’t take advantage of someone like that,” Pam chided, threading her fingers in his hair.  He suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  He didn’t know if it was the way Pam kept teasing or how Ellen and Sam were trying to hide their laughter, or what it was.  Honestly, this was how most of their get-togethers ended up.  Dean didn’t mind the teasing, but this time it just felt…inappropriate.

“Listen, we just gotta get him to his family, and then he’ll be out of our hair, okay?  I mean, once that’s done, Sammy and I can get back to what’s really important, right Sam?”  Dean didn’t like the look on his brother’s face when he turned to ask the question.  In fact, Ellen’s face wasn’t much more comforting.

“Yes Dean, that is right.”

Pam’s hand was suddenly out of his hair and she was three feet away from him.  He felt naked without her there to stand between him and the prince.  Castiel stood with his feet shoulder’s width apart, hands held behind his back.  If his ears had been burning before, they were combusting now.  He dropped his gaze for a moment to take a deep breath of air before looking up again.

“I would like to thank you, Lady Harvelle, for the use of your rooms here, and for the cordiality with which I was received.”

“There ain’t no need to call me “Lady”, you sweet-talker.  Ellen works just fine, dear.”  Castiel gave a slight smile and a quick bow.  He looked back to Dean and his face hardened again.

“And how is the search for the demon coming along?”

“Uh, good,” Dean stuttered.  He swallowed and rubbed his hands on his trousers nervously.  “Sam and Bobby had a chat, and so far, the thing hasn’t done any damage.  Once we see you off, we’re gonna go meet him up and the Gate Station.”   The prince gave a curt nod and Dean could actually feel the pulse in his neck speed up.  This was ridiculous.  He coughed a little, ignoring the way everyone was staring at him.  “Well, um, I’m going to go take care of Baby.  She’s got a loose left shoe, so…”  And then he strode quickly towards the other doorway in the room.  He swore Cas must have been using magic because his frightening blue gaze was leaving burn marks on Dean’s back.


	12. Foot in Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And then this gossip, ohhh, you got yourself in deep! There’s a rumor saying you ran out on old King Chuck because his death was too upsetting, but I think there’s more to the story than that. I think you royal types are just playing the little people like you always do. I tried to get Dean and Sam to confirm a few theories, but their lips are sealed.” She paused and stood, pocketing the knife. “I can see why Dean was so eager to help with a pretty face like that.”

Castiel could hear the way his feet on the stairs creaked throughout the tavern.  He could hear pleasant chatter and laughter coming from below.  He wondered how on earth these people could be so kind to each other for such extended periods of time.  In his family it was always tight-lipped cordiality when they all came together.  Mother would be kind for as long as possible until she couldn’t stand the company anymore and threw a bit of a royal tantrum.  Lucifer was the same way, but much more violent and vindictive about it.  Michael almost never wanted anything to do with anyone but Lucifer and their father.  Gabriel and Anael usually liked to keep to themselves, and father, like Castiel, just wanted to get away from everyone.

Yet here was this group of friends, a family, who laughed and teased and never seemed too upset about anything.  In truth, Castiel was a little jealous.  When he alighted on the ground floor and peered through the doorway into the bright hall, he felt that seed of sin shoot up into a surprising amount of envy.  A thin woman with short wavy black hair outlined in a small golden halo had her hand threaded through Dean’s locks.  What was worse was that Dean was smiling down at her, holding her hips, looking much too intimate.

The thought disappeared as quickly as it bloomed though, as Dean spoke in a tone Castiel had trouble placing.  “Listen, we just gotta get him to his family, and then he’ll be out of our hair, okay?  I mean, once that’s done, Sammy and I can get back to what’s really important, right Sam?”  The prince stepped forward, into the doorway and saw as Sam and Ellen’s eyes shifted to him.  Their expressions immediately changed from mirthful to surprised and possibly fearful.  Dean turned, and a similar change took place. 

“Yes Dean, that is right.”

His ears turned bright red, as did his cheeks.  Castiel might have felt flattered, had he not known why Dean was so embarrassed.   It didn’t take long for the hunter to fabricate some excuse and flee the scene.  Castiel did not sit, only stood gazing out at the people around him.  The psychic seemed the most uncomfortable and mumbled about finishing up the food.  Sam slipped away to help her, and Ellen excused herself to go take care of some tax work.  Jo sat at the hearth, her father’s blade back in her hand, watching Castiel with an unwavering stare.

“You really are quite the looker, aren’t you?” she said finally.  Castiel was uncertain how to respond.

“I, uh, thank you.”  Jo just shrugged and turned her attention back to the knife.  She had the blade point to the brick, and the end of the hilt balanced under the tip of her index finger.

“Wasn’t a compliment,” she said with a small grin.  It was almost as if she were keeping some secret and chastising herself for almost letting on.  “But I can definitely see why all the villagers like you so much.”  Castiel almost did catch the sentence.

“Excuse me?”

“All the village folk have been talkin’ about you.  The gossip’s been much juicier lately.”  Castiel still didn’t understand.  A playful tilt of her lips showed she wasn’t finished with him just yet.  “Well there are some boys and girls who’ve been pining after you since they knew they could.  Engagement or no engagement, that don’t stop ‘em from thinking about you.  There’s a girl a few hovels over, Daphne I think her name is, that’s got quite the infatuation with you, boy.”

Castiel opened his mouth, but finding no words, simply closed it again.  He must not have looked too regal then, because Jo let out a tinkling laugh.  As the blood rose in the princes cheeks, he swallowed and looked at his boots.

“And then this gossip, ohhh, you got yourself in deep!  There’s a rumor saying you ran out on old King Chuck because his death was too upsetting, but I think there’s more to the story than that.  I think you royal types are just playing the little people like you always do.  I tried to get Dean and Sam to confirm a few theories, but their lips are sealed.”  She paused and stood, pocketing the knife. “I can see why Dean was so eager to help with a pretty face like that.”

“Y-you don’t need to flatter me.”

“Not trying to,” she rolled her eyes.  She began walking around him, sizing him up in a predatory manner.  He found his shoulders hunching without his consent.  “I’m just curious as to what your intentions are.”

“M-my intentions?”  Jo raised her eyebrows as if she were dealing with the densest child in the entire city.  Castiel almost felt offended at her tone, except he was too busy being confused by her words.  Was she speaking about his intentions in general?  Battle tactic-wise? Or romantically?  Did she know he had a strange attraction to the way Dean’s hands moved or the way his voice sounded?  Or how the anger in his throat ad embarrassment in his chest still weighed him down like stones?  He blinked twice at the strange passing flurry of thought.

“That’s right.  What are you hoping to gain from befriending my brothers?”

“I want to get home.  That is all.”  Looking from her hands to her face, Castiel took a step backwards.  She still looked skeptical, but relented.

“That so…” it wasn’t a question.  Finally feeling like the prince he was, he straightened up and stared her down.

“Are you always this brusque with people of a higher class than yourself?”

“Oh, honey,” she chided, “I think you’ll find that class is just a word ‘round these parts.  Plus you ain’t the one paying, so I feel no need to placate you,” she waved a finger in his face as she drawled the words out.  She then flipped her hair and walked cattily out of the room.  Castiel’s mind went blank.  What had all that been about?  Jo somehow managed to mix compliment with insult in such a way that the prince had no gauge on how she felt about his presence, other than not existing to serve him.  After trying to gather his thoughts about him, he stepped over to the fire.  He held his hands out to warm them.  He wasn’t particularly cold at the moment, but found the familiar heat on his hands comforting.  No matter where he went, fire was always hot.  He sighed into the moment an let his eyes wander over the mantel piece.  Mostly it was filled with small pencil sketches and paintings, but a knife and odd bottle of potion helped decorate the oak furnishing nicely.  He didn’t want to confront Dean just yet, so he waited a while longer.  He wanted his anger to simmer down if he was going to speak to the hunter.  He thought they were friends.  Apparently, Castiel did not know enough about the topic to discern a real friend from someone who was just tolerating his presence.  He harrumphed at the thought before shaking it out of his ears and rubbing his palms together.

He licked his lips before following the door out towards the stables.  Immediately upon stepping out of the stone building, he shivered.  He really ought to have found a coat.  It was going to be a terrible winter if the wind now had any say about the matter.  He huddled against himself and plowed on towards where Dean was.

This stable was much nicer than Old Knight Turner’s had been.  It looked sturdy, with dark brown beams jutting straight out of the ground at every wall juncture.  There was a large loft above, full of hay, and each of the dozen stalls were roomy enough for at least two horses.  As he walked through the horse-lined hall, he could hear Dean speaking.  His tone was cooing, almost tender and Castiel figured he must be tending to Baby.  Sure enough, as he rounded the corner, back into the cool chill of the wind, Dean was just finishing up cleaning one of Baby’s back hooves.  Without looking up, Dean spoke.

“That you Jo?  You wanna hand me the brush by the door?”  Castiel bent to pick up the curry comb Dean referred to and handed it to him.  Dean’s thumb brushed over the prince’s knuckles.  The hunter froze at the touch and whipped his head around to see who it was.  He let out a deep sigh when he saw Castiel.  All the disappointment and humiliation crept back into Castiel’s blood as Dean bit his bottom lip like he was trying to figure out what to say.

“Cas, I’m-”

“I’m sorry you feel that helping me is such a burden, Dean.”  Castiel never knew how to start conversations, so he figured jumping right in would work.  Unfortunately Dean’s jaw clenched and he turned away abruptly.  Castiel didn’t like the way the hunter just closed off.  “I was under the impression that you were helping of your own free will.”  Dean had one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his forehead.  “I see now that that was foolish of m-”

“Cas, will you shut up a second?  I get that you’re not used to having people treat you like anything other than the prince, but just…can it would you?”  Castiel quieted in shock.  Dean let out another sigh and faced the prince again.  “Look, I don’t exactly do the whole “friends” thing that often, alight?” he held his hands out slightly to each side of himself and looked for confirmation.  When he got it, he continued, “So now that Sammy and everyone else knows that we’re friends, they’re gonna tease me about it, and I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to deal with it, so I stick my foot in my mouth at every possible moment, okay?  And that’s…that’s what you saw.”  Cas thought about it for a moment, drawing his eyebrows together as he tried to understand it.  “That’s as close of an apology as you’re gonna get from me, so I’d appreciate a little feedback here, Cas.”

It sounded like Dean was saying he regretted his words, but the strange phrase threw Prince Castiel off.  He pondered it for a moment until Dean coughed a little and cracked his knuckled nervously.

“I never saw you with your foot in your mouth,” Cas mumbled.  He didn’t know what he had expected from Dean, but it definitely was not for the hunter to burst out laughing.  “What’s so humorous?”

“It’s a saying, Cas.  Putting your foot in your mouth,” Dean stood straight and clasped Castiel on the shoulder.  “It means I said something I didn’t really mean, and it came back to bite me in the ass.”

Castiel relaxed his gaze and tilted his head.  He wanted to smile back at Dean, but the expression felt strange, so he settled for a nod.  “Oh, I see.”  Dean picked the brush up off the ground where he had dropped it.  The first few strokes over Baby’s dark flanks caused her to snort happily, and Dean responded with a mute laugh.  Castiel watched closely.  He’d seen some of the stable hands at the palace groom the horses before, but he’d never watched this closely.  Dean noticed his interest, and pausing, he held the brush out to the prince.

“You wanna try?”

“Oh, um, I suppose I could,” Cas turned his eyes to the ground as Dean flashed him another lop-sided grin.  Dean handed him the brush, but didn’t back away when Cas stepped up.  A knot tied itself into the prince’s belly as he put the brush to Baby’s back.

“Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“You’re gonna have to actually move the brush.”

“Right.”  Apparently, Dean found his technique unsatisfactory, and took Castiel’s hand after a few passes of the brush.

“No, like this.  Baby’s a tough girl, she can handle a little pressure.”  Dean’s hand on his made rough, harsh stokes over the horse’s back.  Castiel tried to imitate as best as he could, but found Dean’s presence so close behind him distracting.  “I’m guessing you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“No.  There were servants for that.”

“I’ll bet you’ve got servants for everything, don’t you?”

“For everything that is unfit for us to do, yes.”  Dean’s hand left his, and he settled with his back against the whitewashed stable wall.  There were a few evergreen trees separating Ellen’s property from that of another peasant.  Chicken coups and stables were just visible between the trees.  Castiel kept at the grooming just like Dean had showed him, furiously concentrated on the task.

“And what else could be unfit for you to do?”

“Cooking, cleaning, running messages, making security rounds.  Things I’m assuming you do every day.”  Dean huffed in agreement, crossing his arms.  Castiel moved down to Baby’s shoulder and then her belly in silence.  He took her in, admiring just how beautiful of an animal she really was; all sleek black hair and shining hooves,  A white star on her forehead and a long smooth mane.  He sighed into one of his strokes and felt it pull him back.  The only sounds between the two were Dean’s deep breaths, Baby’s occasional stamp, and the constant sound of the comb on her flank.

Finally, Dean said, “Do you think you’re up to exploring the town?”  Cas paused his brushing and turned away from Baby.  He tilted his head in thought, then looked at the sky and muttered something under his breath.  “What was that?”

“Yes, I think I’d enjoy that.”

“Alright then, let’s go.”  Dean took Baby’s saddle off a rack nearby and slapped it down on her back with a cheeky grin at Cas.  He seemed to speak to no one.  “Sam is never gonna let me live this one down.”


	13. Market Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you think we were just gonna spend some quality time together with Baby? Ellen gave me a list. Oh and after the farmers, we’re gonna need to visit the carpenters. Some asshole broke three of Ellen’s stools.” Dean tucked the parchment into his shirt and snapped Baby’s reins.

For a while the ride was silent.  Dean cherished the way his leather gloves felt on his hands, loved the power he felt holding onto Baby’s reins.  It was even nicer with a warm body behind him, and hands lightly holding his waist.  He liked the way sometimes when Cas thought he wasn’t paying attention, he would “accidently” bump his nose into the back of Dean’s neck.  They were just entering the cobblestone streets of the market place when a thought occurred to Dean.

“We’re not gonna be in any sort of danger, right?”

“How do you mean?”  Dean shivered.  He hadn’t realized how close Cas’s mouth was to his ear.

“Well, if your brothers still want you dead, they’ll have guards after you won’t they?”  Dean couldn’t see it, but he could hear one of Castiel’s rare smiles through his voice.

“Well yes, but I hardly think they’ll recognize me in this manner of dress.”  The only item of outstanding value Castiel wore now was that perfectly blue brooch that matched his eyes.  Dean had been meaning to ask its significance, but never found the moment.  Castiel’s face was also much scruffier, dirtier looking than it did when they had first met.  He had a bit of a light beard coming in and his pretty pale skin had a darker, heartier undertone to it.  Castiel was still recognizable, but not obviously royalty.  “And it’s not as though the peasants and merchants know what I look like, so I doubt we’ll have any trouble on that end either.”

“Well,” Dean teased, “That might not be so true.  You and your siblings are quite the subject of peasant fantasy.”

“Jo said something similar earlier.  But I don’t understand.”

“Your portraits are a popular item in the print section of the market,” Dean grinned.

“People bargain for pictures of us?  Why?”

“Yeah see, I think a lot of the population finds you angel-babies attractive in the physical sense.  I know I’ve seen my share of young adults swooning over portraits of your family.  From my understanding, you and Michael are tied for sales at the moment.”  Dean made that last part up just to gauge the prince’s reaction and he had to say he was not disappointed.

“That’s-what?  Why?”  The prince stuttered and balked at the information and his fingers tightened around Dean’s waist.  “Why on earth would they partake in such nonsense?”

“You’re kind of royalty, Cas.  Educated, well cared for.  The whole package, you know?  Beside haven’t you ever had an “infatuation” before?”  Again, Cas began half sentences and flushed red.

“No!  I have not!  I hardly have time for such diversion,” the prince lied through his teeth.

“That’s just sad,” Dean commented shaking his head, “I still remember my first one.  Lisa of the Braeden’s.  A dance teacher in the aristocrats’ place, oh she was perfect.  Long brown curls and such a pretty smile.”

“Wh-what happened?  Why didn’t you court her if you were so enchanted?”  Dean only shrugged, guiding Baby carefully around a merchant’s stall that had fallen into the street.

“Wasn’t meant to be.  She had a kid and she was almost ten years older than me.  And as I got to know her…it just kind of burned out.  Didn’t feel the same rush when I was around her.”

“I see.”

“No you don’t,” Dean grinned and turned to look at Castiel.  “You can’t know what that’s like until you’ve experienced it firsthand.  Oh, and there’s always the fighting!  You should have seen me and Benny de la Fitte.  He was great too, but he could really get on my nerves.”

“He?”

“Yeah.  His accent?  Jesus, it was beautiful.  But he and Sammy didn’t get along too well and it kind of carried over into our relationship and it ended pretty messy.  Plus he kind of had a pirate ship to run, so…”

“ _He_?” Castiel emphasized.

“Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Benny was a guy.  What of it?”

“Nothing, I just…I didn’t realize you…”  Dean just laughed again.  Cas could be really dense sometimes, but Dean found it endearing.

“I’m not going to argue about what’s below the belt, Cas.”

“My brothers are the same way.”

“That so?”  Dean was really more curious about Cas, but he didn’t want to frighten the prince off by being brash.  “What about the princess?”

“Anael is not particularly interested in other women, but there have been occasions.”

“Interesting.”

“What about your brother, Sam?”

“Sam’s not much in the way of men.  He likes the ladies too much, I think.”  He wanted to just ask.  Just throw away his reservations and ask it!  But he couldn’t bring himself to.  So instead he started rambling.  “You know when I was younger and my dad brought me to the mage of the lower town, she told me I was going to marry Anael.”

“What?” Cas actually showed signs of surprise and Dean’s lips twitched back into a smile.

“Yeah, my prophecy was “in a time of distress, the boy will marry his princess,” and there was only one princess at the time.  Still is only one.”

“Oh,” Castiel pondered for a moment.  “You don’t seem too confident about it.”

“Well as much as I love Missouri and all, I just can’t see myself and the princess having any excuse to…you know, tie the knot.”

“I don’t have much faith in the mages either.”

“Yeah, that’s right.  You were the prince that-”

“They warned against, yes.  And I can’t say that my own feelings have remained partitioned from my judgment of them.”

“Small words, Cas.”

“They didn’t want me so I dislike them.”

“Reasonable,” Dean commented.  Suddenly he turned in the saddle and reached into a bag near Cas’s shin.  He pulled out a scrap of parchment with illegible scrawl drawn on it.  “Okay, so we need to visit the brewers and the bakers and God knows Sam needs more vegetables.”

“What?”

“Did you think we were just gonna spend some quality time together with Baby?  Ellen gave me a list.  Oh and after the farmers, we’re gonna need to visit the carpenters.  Some asshole broke three of Ellen’s stools.”  Dean tucked the parchment into his shirt and snapped Baby’s reins.

~

The blacksmiths were on the outskirts of the markets, due to the fact that it was difficult to haul all their product back and forth.  Then came the tanners and carpenters, so Dean contracted one to come by the Roadhouse and take a look at the chair style later that afternoon.  After that were the farmers and butchers, so Dean had Cas try to purchase some basic items.  Some lettuce, meal, and anything he thought looked nice.  Castiel foundered until Dean came back from the butcher’s with a large hock of what looked like cured ham.  They collected their purchases before heading deeper into the baker’s section of the market place.  Dean contracted Ellen’s usual baker/brewer for one hundred rolls and measures of ale to be delivered by the end of the market days.  After that, came the less necessary things like silks and spices and trinkets from other kingdoms.

Up until this point, Dean had been paying for everything with a small bag of gold Ellen had given to him.  But once the tent covers changed from shoddy-looking canvas, to finer black velvet or silk, Dean brought out some rolls of fur.  He traded two pure white buck skins for a large bag of salt and some sort of stripped fluffy skin for a measure of white fabric.  Castiel was amazed at how easily Dean seemed to fit in and communicate.  Several times he caught some of the stall tenders looking his friend up and down.

“Why do they do that?”

“Do what?” Dean said munching on a pastry he had bought earlier.  Cas had one too, but had finished it much quicker.  Dean held Baby’s reins tightly as he led the horse through the scattered crowds and turns and corners of the uneven streets.

“They look you from head to toe, and then they seem to never give you eye contact.”

“Well, not everyone gives as much eye contact as you, Cas,” Dean shrugged with a smirk.  Cas stiffened and a worried edge crept into his voice.

“Is it wrong to give eye contact?”

“N-no Cas, I was joking.”  Dean’s smile stayed as he huffed out a laugh.  “I guess they do it ‘cause they think I’m attractive.”

“Then why wouldn’t they look you in the eye?”

Dean puffed out his chest, “Other places to look I guess.”  There was a beat before Dean opened his mouth again.  “Honestly, I thought you’d be asking why they did it to you before asking it about me.”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“Well not for nothin’ Cas, but quite a few of those guys at the last stall were giving you the sex eye.”  Cas could feel his cheeks flushing and silently cursed himself.

“Wh-why would they do that?  That’s so uncomfortable.”

“Eh, just take it as a compliment, I guess.  That’s how I get over it.  Hooray, you’re attractive,” Dean said in a rather unamused tone as he waved Baby’s reins around in the air as a mock celebration.  “Either way, it’s great for conning.”

“Conning?”

“Yeah, a guy thinks you can’t take him in ring-peg so you con him into playing, lose the first couple rounds when the pot is small, then when it starts getting better, you take it all.  All because the guy’s too busy looking at your ass to realize you’re throwing the game.”

Cas just looked at Dean with a million questions etched into his face.  He shook his head and swallowed.  “What is “ring-peg”?” he asked.

“You’ve never played ring-peg?!” Dean got animated.  “Aw, man, remind me to show you how when we get back to the Roadhouse.  It’s a simple bar game that people play.  It’s great, all about aim and power.”  Dean smiled and swiped at his nose with his thumb.  “The last thing on the list is…oh, holy water.  Gotta go to the church for that one.”

The last stop didn’t take very long, as the priest, or “padre” as Dean called him seemed to know Dean.  They clasped hands, and pulled each other into a big hug before Dean told the man all about the demon he and Sam were hunting and explained that once they helped out Cas (Dean referred to him as Jimmy, much to Cas’s relief) they’d be on their way to hunting it down and exorcising it.

“Have you been looking at those maps I gave you?”

“Yeah, Sammy’s still working on a theory, but there’s just not enough information, you know?”

“I’m telling you, there’s just something about Dema that bothers me,” the priest shook his head.

“I’m all for storming the gates, Padre, but Sam’s insisting we find more proof.”

“No, he’s right.  We don’t have enough to alert the guard, and now with the king in such awful health…”  Dean noticed Cas’s shoulders tighten at the mention of his father.  “It’d be best until Prince Michael takes the throne and there’s more conclusive proof.”

“So Michael will be taking the throne?” Cas blurted out.  He must have sounded odd referring to the prince without using a title, but Castiel just ignored the priest’s odd look and waited patiently for an answer.

“Ah, yes, at least from the proclamation that came out this morning.  He’s supposed to take over once the king leaves us.”  Castiel nodded with a deep sigh.  He’d honestly hoped that Gabriel or Anael would have stepped up and taken responsibility, but he also did not blame them.

They left the small wooden church with a clay jug full of holy water.  Baby’s saddle bags were almost comically laden with bags and jars and even a box.  Castiel was a bit nervous about mounting behind Dean again because he was almost certain the hunter was aware of how close Cas kept getting.  It was so difficult to stay away though, with Dean’s hair smelling like the harvest and warm bread.  He needed to focus on meeting Anael tonight.  He thought back to Dean’s prophecy and sighed into Dean’s neck.  If the mage had said it would happen, it would happen.  He didn’t know why that was such an upsetting thought.

“So are you guys just high-tailing it back to the castle, or are you gonna stay until the market days are over?”

“Hmm?  Oh, I have no idea what Anael has planned.”

“Oh.  I got another question for you then.”

“What’s that?”

“Have you ever been to the Market Balls?”  Cas shuddered at the mention of a dance.  They were such terribly stuffy affairs.  Each nobleman asking how the other was doing, but not really listening to the answer, all politics, who’s talking to who, men trying to marry off their boys and girls to the wealthiest family.  It was sickening to Cas.

“No, although I’m not inclined to dancing.”

“That’s fine, princess.  If it makes you feel any better, I’ve got two left feet too.  Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the ball.”

“You don’t have two left feet, I can see the right one clearly from here.”

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re being serious or joking.”

“I will admit that was an attempt at humor.”  Castiel didn’t expect Dean to let out a hearty chuckle at his offhanded comment, but when he did, Cas felt his lips tug upwards and his stomach flip.

“Well, the Market Balls aren’t really _balls_ per say.  They’re more of,” Dean used his free hand to gesture vaguely at the air, “a collection of merchants trying to spend a little money with some dancing on the side.  It’s just a giant party with a bunch of drunk people singing and having fun.”

“That sounds much more entertaining than the balls my mother throws.”

“What?  You mean Queen Rebecca throws a lousy party?”

“Unfortunately, yes.  The only redeeming factor is that she likes to play matchmaker with my siblings.  She’s terrible at it, and Gabriel’s reactions are quite entertaining.”  Dean laughed again, softer, but with enthusiasm. 

“Well if you can manage it, I’m sure Ellen would love to have you stay for the Ball this week.  The Roadhouse is famous for its celebration pies!”  They meandered through the middle rings of the cobblestone marketplace.  As the sun set lower in the sky, more people came out from their homes.  It looked as though a few nobles had even deemed it worth leaving the house before six to look for silks and furs.

The ride back was mostly silent, Cas mulling over all the things he’d seen and learned, from the failed attempt at consumerism to the revelation about Michael’s inheritance; Dean trying to keep his God damn mouth shut.  He tried to ignore the fact that he had basically asked Cas for another rendezvous, but couldn’t help silently berating himself for being such a fool.

They unpacked all he bags once they made it back to the Roadhouse.  Sammy was ecstatic about the fresh vegetables, and Jo took all the grain and meal to store separately.  Ellen waited by the door for the carpenter and brewer to show up.  Dean grabbed the swatch of white fabric and disappeared up the stairs towards the room he shared with Sam. Sitting at the bar, watching the time candle melt and the people around him change, Castiel waited for his sister in silence.


	14. Princess Anael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wondered what time it was. Couldn’t be more than ten, but it was definitely after seven. He should probably get up. He assumed that Anael would complain about leaving so “late”, but she was most likely still asleep. He could just hear some clanging and cheerful voices from the kitchen below. He supposed he ought to get dressed and help Anael prepare for their trip home.

“So your siblings are just supposed to waltz on in here and collect ya’?” Ellen asked from across the bar.  There were all sorts of people laughing and drinking and generally having a good time.  Two girls were getting dangerously promiscuous with each other in the back corner while a group of four guardsmen were starting to get rowdy.  Ellen cast the latter group a wary look before turning back to Castiel.

“I suppose.  We didn’t exactly get around to planning the details.”

“How on earth are you gonna find them in this hellhole?”

“Anael tends to stick out, trust me.”  It was another half an hour –at least according to the time candle behind Ellen –before a flash of red hair caught the prince’s attention.  He stood without a word and made his way to one of the back tables where his sister sat serenely gazing at the green glass lamp hanging over her head.

“Mistress Milton,” Castiel greeted.

“Lord Novak,” Anael replied.  Castiel sat across from her and they both let out a relieved sigh.  “I’m always afraid that one of these days a doppelganger or shifter is going to catch us off guard.”

“Understandable.”  Castiel felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate.  “So is it safe for me to return home?  I must say I’ve had quite enough of the country for a while.”

“Yes, it’s safe for you to return.  There are some things though.”  Anael once again grew uncomfortable.  She lifted two hands to massage the back of her neck and hissed.

“Things?” Castiel couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes.  Things I would be more comfortable discussing back at the hovel.”  Castiel nodded solemnly at the code word.  Jo suddenly appeared at the table.

“Now what can I get the lord and lady?”  Castiel offered a silent prayer that Jo had enough tact not to refer to them by their proper titles.

“If there’s cider and turkey…,” Anael replied.  Jo pursed her lips and nodded.

“Yeah, we got that.”  Castiel was completely flustered when both of the girls turned to him.

“Um, th-the same, if you would.”

“Right up,” Jo sauntered away.

“What is the plan now?” Castiel whispered across the dark wooden table.

“I plan upon spending the night here, if you can wait that long.  It’s getting too late to travel, lest we get waylaid.”  Castiel bobbed his head in agreement.  “Besides, I’d like to hear about your experience in the Between Woods, if you don’t mind.  By the way, where is Old Knight Turner?”

“Supposedly in the market, but that’s…complicated.  I should start with the hell hound.”

“The hell hound!” Anael exclaimed.  “What hell hound?”

“It ambushed me not even two hours into the forest.  Spooked my horse off, and with it, all my supplies.”

“Oh, Cassie!  How on earth…?”

“Hunters, Anael.  Hunters found me, and what’s more is they helped me.”

“Hunters did that?”  Castiel confirmed it.  “What family were they from?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when he realized he’d never asked.  “I-I don’t know their family name.  I never thought to ask.”  Anael rolled her eyes.

“Cassie!  How do you know they aren’t planning something?  What if they’re from the Walker family?”

“No, Anael, they’re not-” he bit his lip as he thought of how to say it.  “Dean could have stolen the brooch mother gave me, yet here it sits.”  He touched the gem at his throat as he said it.

“Dean?  As in Dean of the Winchester family?”

“P-possibly.”  Honestly, Castiel had been more concerned with his own family than that of the men who’d saved him.

“You were very lucky, then, to have Old Knight John’s boy find you.”

“It wasn’t just Dean.  His brother, Sam, healed me.”

“I had heard that one of the Winchester boys had magic,” she mused.  Jo reappeared with two steaming plates of food, set them down, and then went back to the bar for their ciders.  The two waited patiently until they had everything before beginning their meals.  Anael let out a surprised grunt when she ate her first bite.  Castiel could only smile at her excite reaction.  “Castiel, this is,” she shook her head, “this is amazing!  Do peasants eat like this all the time?  This is far better than anything the hovel kitchen serves!”

“Not really,” a gravelly voice rolled in from behind Castiel.  Recognizing the voice, Cas went rigid.  “There’s just a lot more salt on it is all,” Dean continued.  He pulled up a chair from another table and sat next to the prince.  He let out a slow whistle.  “I knew you royal types were supposed to be pretty, but damn, Cas, this is your sister?”  Anael dipped her head and Cas could just make out the faint redness of blush in the low lighting.  A gnawing rose up in his stomach, and for a moment he thought he might be hungry, but that didn’t make much sense considering where he was.

“Anael, this is Dean. One of the hunters who saved me.”

“Ah, don’t be so modest, Cas.  You saved our skins too.”  Cas felt a shiver go up his spine when Dean winked at him.

“Cassie?” Aneal questioned.

“Apparently, I have magic, sister.”  Her mouth fell open a bit, her perfect pink lips forming an “O”.  Her eyes flicked wide as she stared.

“H-how?  But how?”

“I don’t know.  It just happened.  The hell hound was attacking the brothers and-”

“And Cas here lit up like a bonfire,” Dean finished.  “Wings, halo, glowing eyes and everything.”  Anael’s eyes stuttered from her brother back to Dean.  As much as he hated to admit it, he noticed the way she studied the hunter with deep scrutiny.  Cas dabbed at his mouth with the provided napkin and stood.

“Good night.  I am retiring.”

“Already, Cas?  You mind if I finish it off then?”  Dean gestured to the half touched plate of turkey, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables.  Castiel gave him permission, received his kiss from Anael, then retreated up the stairs toward his bed.

~

Dean had only noticed Cas’s disappearance from the bar when Jo pointed it out to him.  It wasn’t that Dean didn’t care, or wasn’t paying attention, he just figured that Cas could take care of himself.  Besides, there was no point in hovering around the guy if he needed to have a special family talk with whoever was coming to collect him.  So Dean and Pamela flirted around the kitchen together.  Pam complimented him on his breads and beef dishes, saying he’d improved since the last time.  When Jo shouted that Cas was talking with a pretty girl in the back booth, Pam dismissed him with a “go make sure your pretty little angel’s gonna be okay.”  Of course he’d grumbled about the particulars of the sentence, but decided to just take it as a blessing that Pam wasn’t anymore vulgar.

The two were hunched together in the darkest corner of the tavern with only a single oil lamp illuminating the table.  The girl was almost as breath taking as Cas, in Dean’s opinion.  She had long red hair, like spun copper, and big eyes and the same pale skin as Cas.  Her face lit up as she took her first bite of food, and Dean couldn’t stand silent anymore.

“Anael, this is Dean, one of the hunters who saved me.”  Castiel’s tone grated against dean’s nerves.  It was as if Cas had reverted back into the stuffy noble he had found held to a tree with a knife.  Well Cas was still pretty stuffy, but Dean had thought they’d gotten past the formalities.  Why not introduce Dean as a friend?  Dean faked his smile and settled into flirting instead.  Ana was pretty, so why not?  It’s not like there was any chance, regardless of the Missouri’s prediction.  When Castiel abruptly left the table, Dean dug into his leftovers.  Anael was mostly silent at first.  She made little sniffing noises or giggles when she tried a new bite of food, but was almost awkwardly quiet to be honest.  She dabbed at her cupid’s bow lips in much the same way Castiel had done before moving to exit, and then stared at Dean in a piercing way.

“I want to thank you for helping keep my little brother safe.”

“It was no problem at all, Your Highness.”  She jumped and glanced around.

“Please, call me Lady.  I don’t want to disrupt anything.”

“Oh, of course, Lady.  Cas’s situation was partially our fault, so there is no debt.”

“You are mistaken.  There is always a debt,” the princess smiled at him.  He decided she had a pretty smile.  “You personally assisted a member of the royal family.  Not many guardsmen can say so much.  You brought him back to me safely and in one piece when he should have died.”

“Well, again, he saved our asses too, so he was really more of a blessing than a burden.”

“Yes, I suppose he was, wasn’t he?”  Dean didn’t like the way she was looking at him.  He felt like she was using her magic to reach into his skull and extracting his life story.  “I noticed his halo was glowing brighter than I’ve ever seen it before.  I figured it had to do with the healing your brother performed, but this is…different.”

“Oh, yeah, magic users can see that all the time, can’t they,” Dean smiled.  She nodded slowly in confirmation.

“Interesting…” she mumbled to herself.  Dean played with the vegetables on his plate.  “In fact, his is glowing with almost the same intensity as those possessed by Michael and Lucifer.”

“Oh, speaking of, we heard Michael’s getting the inheritance.  That true?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yes, of course.  I should have mentioned it with Castiel, or should I say “Cas”?”  Dean’s smile grew and he lowered his head.

“Yeah, it’s easier to say.  I hope you don’t mind if I call you Ana.  You upper class people just have hard names.”  Ana laughed at his abashment.

“I do not mind.  Although I can only imagine the names you would come up with for Balthazar or Inias.”

“B-Balthazar?  I don’t like the sound of that one,” Dean griped.  Ana giggled again, much to Dean’s delight.  “Oh, if you want, I can show you to your room, Lady Ana.  You’re right next to Cas.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it, Sir Dean.”  The hunter balked as he stood but then beamed at the princess who returned his smile.

~

“I’m going to call you Clarence.  That was the name of my puppy before Lilith threw him in the moat.”

Castiel wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  “Daddy says that there are crocodiles in the moat so I can never go down to play in it.  Isn’t that a shame, Clarence?”  Meg sat on one of the window sills, looking out over the cloudy land of Dema.  Her curly brown hair framed her pudgy round face quite attractively and her tiny legs folded up underneath her bottom so she could get a better look.  “I don’t really want to marry you.”

“O-oh.”  Was all Castiel could manage to say.

“Don’t worry, Clarence, it’s got nothing to do with you,” she turned her head to smile at him.  “I just don’t wanna get married at all.  I wanna go out into the forest and see things.  Like in that book of yours.”

“I-I don’t want to marry you either,” the prince admitted.  He looked down at his tiny fingers over the illuminations of his book.  Meg nodded at him and went back to staring out the window.

“We’re too young.  I can barely shoot an arrow straight and they want me to meet my future husband.  That seems too fast.”  She hopped off the ledge and sat on the floor next to him.  She was close enough to brush shoulders with him, her long sleeves catching on the stitches of the ribbons sewn into his shirt.

“But I’d have to say that if I’ve got to marry one of you silly Celetan people, I’m glad it’s you.”

“I’m glad I won’t have to marry Lilith.”

“Me too,” Meg joked.  “Now tell me another story, Clarence.  I like your voice.”

The stones of the bright castle room shifted into darkness, the turrets outside changed to trees in the blink of an eye.  Castiel’s own heavy breathing and rushed pulse were the only things he could hear as he raced for his life.  A disturbing, earth wrenching howl echoed behind him.  He tossed a look over his shoulder and cried out when he saw the hell hound bounding after him.  He cried out for Gabriel, Aneal, and then Sam and Dean, but it seemed like the more effort he made, the slower his progress became.

He felt his foot catch on a root and the world rush up to meet him.  His last thought was that he wished he’d gotten to see his home once more before he died.  But as the thought passed, he jolted awake.

His hands were shaking terribly, and his sheets were damp from his sweat.  He passed a hand over his forehead, then through his hair, shuddering at the memory.  It was wrong.  That’s not how either event had happened.  Meg and he had agreed that it was best they marry.  There had been no discussion of their mutual distaste for the practice.  The hellhound hadn’t…he was still alive.

But as he sat with his sheets thrown back, the window letting in such bright sunlight, and bird singing in the air as they caught breakfast, Castiel forgot it.  It shrunk into nothing more than a little bit of discomfort at the base of his skull.

He flopped backwards into the soft warmth of his sheets, ignoring their sticky uncomfortable feeling.  He wondered what time it was.  Couldn’t be more than ten, but it was definitely after seven.  He should probably get up.  He assumed that Anael would complain about leaving so “late”, but she was most likely still asleep.  He could just hear some clanging and cheerful voices from the kitchen below.  He supposed he ought to get dressed and help Anael prepare for their trip home.  He took up and put on the clothes Sam and Dean had provided him, and, as always, placed his brooch in its place under his Adam’s apple.

When he reached for the door handle, he hesitated.  Then he took it and turned it, accepting whatever waited for him at the bottom of the stair case. 

~

As he stepped into the bar, a young man who looked similar to Dean rushed by, almost knocking the prince off his feet.

“Oh, sorry, sir.  Didn’t see you there,” he called back before he continued rushing towards the kitchen.  Dean laughed from one of the tables.  He sat with the psychic woman, Jo, and Sam, all eating a warm breakfast of leftover turkey and potatoes.

“That’s Adam, by the way.  Late to work,” Jo smirked as she took a long drink out of her mug.  “Spent too much time courting that pretty little girl a few shacks over, huh Adam?” she called back.  The only response was an angry sounding, “Shut it Jo!”

“Awww, did somebody get rejected?”  Adam poked his head out the door and scowled.

“Ok, fine, yeah.  I got rejected.  Happy now?”  The room was silent.  Castiel stood awkwardly, hoping for someone else to speak before him.  Dean and the psychic woman were poking their food around their plate while Sam pretended to be reading and Jo rolled her shoulders in discomfort.

“Jesus, Adam.  I’m sorry,” Jo bit her lip.  Adam only sighed.

“It’s fine.  Just a little disappointing.  Anyway what’s up for tonight?”

“Usual,” the dark haired woman replied.

“Cas, c’mon, join us for breakfast,” Dean smiled as he grabbed a chair from another table.  “I don’t think you and Pam have been properly introduced.”

“No, I believe not.”  Cas bowed to her and said, in formal greeting, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Pamela.”  Then he sat down next to Dean.  Her lips slid into a sly grin.

“Wow Dean, you better watch out.  That prince of yours can have my bed anytime if he’s gonna treat me like that.”

“He’s like that with everyone, Pammy,” Dean rolled his eyes.  “Aren’t you, Princess?”  Castiel gaped at them for a moment.  Did Pamela mean sex when she said he could have her bed?  What was Dean implying?  He blinked a few times.

“Are you suggesting we have relations?” he asked.  Jo spit her milk all over Sam and Pamela dropped her fork.  Dean huffed once or twice and for an instant, Castiel thought he might be choking.  Then he realized his friend was laughing.

“I like this one, Dean.  You better come back down and visit after you get all your family stuff figured out, you hear me?” Pam said as she leaned over the table.  Castiel balked but replied with a noncommittal answer.  He had rarely had any time or desire to leave the castle before this adventure.  He wasn’t sure whether that had changed.

“Where is Anael?” he asked.

“Ana?  I think she’s still sleeping.  She had a late night,” Dean replied.  “So did you,” he added.

“I see.”

“You want me to go wake her up?” Jo volunteered.  She had wiped up most of her mess and currently had a cloth to Sam’s cheek.

“I would appreciate that, yes.”  She finished up making sure Sam wasn’t covered in milk before climbing back up the stairs on the other side of the room.

“Now, I don’t mean to flatter you Cas,” Pamela said smugly, “but that is quite the halo you’ve got going on there.”  She pointed and made a small arcing motion over Castiel’s head.  He looked up for a moment, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Yeah, it got brighter after the hellhound incident,” Sam chimed in.  “I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that he hadn’t reached his full potential.  Before it was barely there at all.  Most the time, I couldn’t even see it.”

“Strange,” Pam muttered, “The powers usually come at puberty.  I mean, that’s when most natural users realize.”  Sam shifted uncomfortably.  “Cassie, how old are you?”

“I am twenty, Pamela.”

“So formal!  Call me what you like, honey.”  Castiel nodded.  “So it’s safe to say that you’re a late bloomer.  And I’m supposing you haven’t had any recent contact with demons, have you?”

“N-no.  I only just learned that they were real.”  Pam leaned back in her chair and pursed her lips.

“So there was a hellhound?”

“Yes.”

“And Dean was in danger of getting eaten?”

“It was likely, yes.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“What?  Why’d his powers suddenly burst to life like that?” Sam questioned.

“No idea,” came Pam’s reply.  “I’m no expert on these things.  He’ll probably have to wait for some fancy magic healer at the castle to diagnose him.”

“Good morning Cassie,” Castiel heard from the stairway.

“Anael,” he greeted as she and Jo emerged into the bar.  She wasn’t wearing her riding cloak which meant that Castiel had a little while before they would leave.  Jo brought yet another chair over and seated Anael as proper custom dictated.  Both Castiel and Anael were impressed by her knowledge of manners since the rest of the group seemed to have forgotten.  Sam got up once Anael was finished with her meal, and Pam followed quickly after.  Castiel and Anael went back up to their rooms to prepare for their depature.  Castiel, who had no belongings sat and looked out the large window at the trees behind the lodge.

~

Pam shrieked and a something metal crashed in the kitchen, clanging against the tiled flooring.  Dean shot up and raced in to find Sam on the ground holding his head and groaning with a spilt pot of vegetables next to him.  Pam was bent over trying to help him get to his feet.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, Pam.  It’s just Bobby,” Dean’s little brother grunted.  He stood up shakily.  Dean frowned when he had to hold onto the wooden counter to maintain his balance.  Sam took a deep breath and shut his eyes.  “Yeah, we’re just about to set Cas on his way.  Uh-huh.  No, yeah.  Seriously?  Oh, okay.”  He opened his eyes and glanced nervously at Dean.  “Okay.  So we’ll just shack up with Ellen until you get here?  A week?  Where are you?  Oh, so you’re just…”

“A week?  What is he talking about?” Dean demanded.  Sam held up a finger to tell him to wait.

“Okay, a little less than?  Yeah.  Well of course Dean’s bitching about it.  Alright third day then.  Bye Bobby.  See you then.”  Sam’s legs buckled again, and he barely caught himself before he slid to the floor.  Holding his head in his hands he said, “The demon’s gone.  Bobby exorcised it.  He met up with Rufus and they’re on the other side of the kingdom, so he’ll be here to pick us up on the third day.”

“It doesn’t take five days to get across the kingdom! That’s a two day journey, tops!”

“I’m just the messenger,” Sam croaked out.  “They’re both pretty old, it’s gonna take them longer.  And They’re probably catching up or something.” 

“God damn it,” Dean grunted as he grabbed Sam’s bicep and hauled him to his feet again.  His brother was rambling and it made him sick.  Pam had cleaned up the mess and now offered another body to lean on as they helped Sam out of the kitchen and into a chair.

“I’ll go get him some meat.  You stay awake, Sammy, you hear me?” instructed Pam as she scurried back into the kitchen.

“I ever tell you how much I hate receiving calls?” Sam mumbled.

“All the time,” huffed Dean.

“It’s all energy…not enough physical magic you know?”

“Not really, but sure.  Yeah, I get it.  Hey, come on.  Stay awake.”

Sam yawned and ate the food Pam brought to him.  He had a little more energy after, but Dean sent him to bed regardless.

“He’s getting better at that,” the cook commented when he was gone.

“Oh, yeah.  So much better.”

“Well, it’s way better than when he used to start convulsing and bleeding out of every orifice, don’t you think?” Pam sassed back at him.  Dean didn’t reply.  All he knew was that he hated wearing Sam out like that just for communication.  He supposed it was better, but it still aggravated him.  He still remembered the first time it had happened, John had almost beaten the lights right out of him.  For a while they both thought Sammy was dead.  When he woke up an hour later, he said he had a message from Rufus.  John hadn’t been able to look either of his sons in the eye for the rest of the week.  Dean sighed and pushed off the counter.

“I’ll be reading if you need me.”

“Don’t I always.”


	15. Home at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Magic is…transferable. You can store it up by putting bits and pieces in another object for later use. Usually, magic users choose gem stones,” she pulled out the ruby she always wore on a gold chain from under her shirt. It had the same light her halo did but at a lower intensity. “Mainly it’s because gems have such a pure elemental make up, it’s easier to transfer and access the magic, and they’re easy to keep close.”

A few lanes over from the Roadhouse stood a rather unsuccessful bar that stood on a rotted foundation.  It was mostly forgettable, but the ale was cheap and the food was warm.  This particular bar happened to be the meeting place for a very specific group of peasants.  On the exact same moment Sam collapsed in the Roadhouse kitchen, two members of this specific group were speaking in hushed voices, as usual, planning something that was not all together legal.

“So do you think they’ll let us tag along?” the young man asked his mistress.

“They better,” she shrugged.  Things were going well for the Moondoor thieves.  And everything would be better once they had their other queen back.  “I mean, we have enough to pay them pretty well, don’t you think, Kevin?”  The room was dark, save a few tallow lamps hung from the ceiling.  The chairs were comfortable but mismatched in design, and the table was old and creaky.  Last week’s straw sat limply on the ground as the two conversed over supper.  The queen was just glad that there weren’t many patrons in this particular bar tonight.

“That’s true, but I’m not sure they’ll be receptive to saving a magic user, especially a fairy.”

“Oh come on!  You saw as plain as I did!  They helped out poor little Prince Castiel!  And you said he had a halo.  He’s a magic user, right?”

“I know, Charlie, but he shouldn’t be.  Everyone knows that.  I just…I don’t know, I’m not sure about Ash’s plan.  Wait, Ash _was_ the one to plan it out, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, it’s just that I trust Ash a little more than Andy.”

Charlie laughed.  Kevin had a point, she conceded, but the worst that would happen would be that she’d just follow the hunters out and force them to help her.  They were good men, bound by duty to protect.  If she were in trouble, they would feel compelled to help her.  She smiled and nodded to herself as she took a gulp of wine.

“But I still don’t like the idea of our queen going off and endangering herself like this,” Kevin sighed.

“Yeah, well, Gilda needs me.  And it’s hard ruling you chumps when my other half is locked in a cage a kingdom away!”  Kevin scratched the back of his head and shrugged in response.

“Ava and Dorothy seem to be keeping us in line just fine.”

“No, it’s not you guys I’m worried about,” Queen Charlie waved her hand dismissively.  “It’s those new guys.  What were their names?  Corbit?  Sp-Spruce?  They’re completely unqualified.”

“Why’d you let them join?”  She made a noncommittal noise and took another rather large sip of wine.

“That’s irrelevant.  What I need you to do is get Dorothy and Andy on watch.  I want to know the exact moment they leave that bar, you got me?”

“Don’t worry, _you majesty_ ,” Kevin drawled out with a smirk.  He stood and bowed while rolling his eyes and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hell yeah, I’m the mother fucking queen!”

~

Jo and Ellen were waiting for then at the door.  Anael had taken about half of the hour to pack her few belongings and pay for a lunch to eat on the road.  She had on her green riding cloak and had brought Castiel’s blue one for him.  He silently thanked God that Gabriel hadn’t put it in the bags with the rest of his clothes.  He let his mind wonder where all his clothes might be now.  Floating in a river, caught on a tree branch and flapping in the wind, or in the belly of some terrible beast.  Anael took his hand and thanked their hosts in the proper manner which included long-winded declarations of gratitude and a presentation of money.  Just as Ellen was about to open the door, a deep familiar voice drifted into the front room.

“You aren’t leaving without saying good bye, are you?”  Dean smiled as he strode in.  Castiel felt self-conscious, but didn’t know why.  The two men stuck their hands out and shook, but before Cas could retract his hand, Dean pulled him into a hug.  He felt himself freeze up.  Eventually he tried to mimic Dean’s actions and brought his hands up between Dean’s shoulder blades.  They pulled away and Dean called Sam in.  The younger hunter looked exhausted with red rimmed eyes and a half smile, but he at least seemed steady on his feet.  He and Cas exchanged a similar farewell, sans the hug.

“You better let us know when you’re gracing Ellen and Pam with your presence, you know?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Give Sammy here a mind call,” Dean clarified with a tight-lipped smile.  “You’re siblings’ll know how to do it.  So if you’re ever thinking about coming down off that throne of yours, just let us know and we’ll meet up or something.”  He scratched the back of his neck and looked at the ceiling.

“Are you all ready, Cassie?” questioned Anael.

“Yes, let’s be off.”  Jo brought two horses out from the stable, all reined and saddled.  The royals hopped onto their fresh animals and galloped down the street.

“Look,” Anael called back to him, “they’re waving.”  Everyone, from Adam and Sam to Ellen and Pam were standing on the front step waving them off towards their castle.  Castiel found himself lifting his own hand and giving a mall wave back.  Soon the strange family disappeared in the hustle of the market and Castiel forced himself to turn forwards with a sigh.

~

“Things are strange now Castiel,” his sister said from her chair.  It was late evening, and after a small mid-day meal on the road and a short nap, Castiel sat with his sister watching her sew.

“How so?”

“Well aside from you acquiring magic and smiting a hellhound, many things.”

Anael had insisted upon re-supplying his wardrobe, not that he would complain.  She’d started almost right away and was working on a swatch of thick tan fabric that would eventually become pants.  Castiel could sew just fine himself, but he’d never had the flair for design like Anael had, so he left it to her.

“Michael is to become king.  I’m not sure how Gabriel managed to do it, but he convinced them that this arrangement would work.”

“How is Gabriel?”  Anael sighed and put her sewing down as she thought.

“He could be better.  He’s been a nervous wreck for the last week.  Michael and Lucifer were both furious when they realized we’d sent you off.  And then he had to work on convincing them.  I think he’s sleeping it off at the moment.  I’m glad that wasn’t my job.”

“Then what’s to become of Lucifer?”

“I’m not sure.  In fact, I’m a little frightened of Lucy at the moment.  He has that quietness around him that he gets when he’s plotting something.”

“You don’t think he’ll try anything against Michael?”

“It’s hard to say with Lucy, but I say we take it one crisis at a time.”  She picked her sewing back up and began vigorously stitching.  “But what about you?  I want to hear more about Cassie’s big adventure in the Between Woods!”

“There’s nothing really of import other than what you’ve already heard.”

“Oh really?  Nothing?”

“Well I got to see how King Raphael used his enslaved fairies,” he raised an eyebrow as Anael rolled her eyes.  He knew she wasn’t a fan of history, but she’d asked.  “But nothing else I can think of, no.”

“Then what about your grace getting all sealed up in that hunter of yours?”

“My what?”  Anael smiled and bit her lip as she worked.  She obviously enjoyed teasing Castiel like this.

“Well he had a faint halo around him.  And it was the exact same light as yours.  Would you like to explain how that happened?” she asked suggestively.

“Whatever you’re implying didn’t happen.  I have no idea how magic even works or whether I can even access it again.  What do you mean I sealed my grace into one of them?  Which one?”

“You really have no idea?”

“No!”

“Here Cassie, let me explain.  Magic is…transferable.  You can store it up by putting bits and pieces in another object for later use.  Usually, magic users choose gem stones,” she pulled out the ruby she always wore on a gold chain from under her shirt.  It had the same light her halo did but at a lower intensity.  “Mainly it’s because gems have such a pure elemental make up, it’s easier to transfer and access the magic, and they’re easy to keep close.”

“But then how do-”

“I’m not finished.  Sometimes higher level magic users store their extra grace or the bits of their soul in other things like swords and staffs and tables if they so desired.  But then there are witches and mages and warlocks and fairies who have so much power they can seal their magic in living things.  Like how witches have pieces of their souls in their familiars?”  Castiel nodded.  He’d always wondered how and why witches had familiars, but had never bothered long enough in the magic section of the library to find out.  “But I’ve never seen someone seal their grace into another person before.  So I’ve got to know how you did it and what it means.”

“I don’t know the answer to either of those questions.  Which hunter was it?”

“Oh, now what was his name?  D…Dan?”

“Dean,” Castiel corrected immediately.  Anael smirked and tilted her head at him.  A wave of red hair cascaded from behind her ear.  Castiel shrugged and looked at the floor.  “With the hellhound.  He was about to fall and I grabbed him apparently.  I don’t know.  I don’t really remember.”

“I guess you’re his guardian angel, huh?” she teased as she sttched.  Castiel rolled his eyes and let out a loud sigh.

“You and I both know that we are not angels.”

“Oh right of course.  Only the watered down, soupy messes of them.  But I have to say, I’d rather be less powerful in exchange for my own sanity than an indestructible psychotic force of God, Cassie.”

“That’s not what I meant, Anael, and you know it.”

“Of course I do.  Sometimes I wish you could take a joke,” she smiled.

“Well I don’t appreciate getting teased about my friend.”

“Oh, he’s your friend?”

“Yes, I believe so.  Sam as well.”

“So in a week, you managed to make two friends?  I’m impressed Castiel.  I don’t think Michael or Lucifer can say that much.”

“They don’t need friends.  They’re too caught up in one another to be able to care about any one else.”  Anael sighed in agreement.

“And to think they were so close when they were younger.”

“I have a feeling it goes back to choosing power over sanity idea you were talking about before.”  She gave him a sad smile, but stayed silent for the rest of the evening.  She was about halfway done with the trousers when she bade him good night and left for her chambers.  Castiel sat staring at the fire dancing in the hearth for a long while trying to clear his mind.  When the solitude began to weigh on him, he stood and proceeded to the library.  His books would give him company.

~

Castiel’s face jerked off the page.  He didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep and for a moment, he had trouble remembering where he was.  The light pouring in through the arched window illuminated shelves upon shelves of books, telling him he was in the royal library.  He was about to put his head back down on the book in front of him when the noise that had jostled him from his dreams rang out again.

“Castiel!  Anael!  Micheal!  God damn it! Would one of you answer me?”  It was Gabriel’s voice, and he sounded urgent.  Painfully so, in fact.  Castiel scrubbed his face and straightened his shirt before standing.  He poked his head out of the grand wooden door and called back to his brother.

“What is it Gabriel?”

“Where are you?”

“Library.”  He was answered by the sound of clunking feet on stone until his brother, all dressed in his ceremonial armor, stood in front of him panting.  “Now what on earth is the matter?”

“It’s Lucifer,” his brother breathed out.

“What?  What about Lucifer?”

“He’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have mentioned this at the beginning of the saga, but it completely slipped my mind! This story is going to be told in three parts, "Once Upon A Time", "The Cage", and "Profound Bond". This chapter marks the end of the first act. That means there's going to be a month-or-so intermission before regular updates will begin again (in this particular fanfic). Hopefully, I'll be posting the start of the next act on the 11th or 18th of January. The reason for this is that I'm working on a Christmas thing over on my DA account that I didn't get to finish last year, plus I have a lot of school work coming up. The intermissions will give me time to work out the plots and get ahead in the writing so I can have regular updates for you all. Also, this'll give anyone who needs time to catch up with the story a few weeks to do so. I've tried to set up as much as possible for the next part without giving anything away, but at the same time, I feel like it might be a little confusing. If you have any questions about the AU so far or anything, please feel free to ask! And thank you for reading! See you next month!


	16. The Cage

" _The Cage_ ," Anael read. Castiel squirmed in her lap uncomfortably. "What's the matter, Cassie?"

"I don't like that one. It's scary."

"Aww, well it's not real, you know that right? These are just stories."

"It's still scary."

"Here, let's read it together. I'll show you how silly it is. How does that sound?"

Castiel wrung his small pudgy hands carefully. He didn't really want to read the story, but Anael said she could make it silly. After a moment of deliberation, he nodded slightly. She giggled and bent to kiss his messy hair.

" _The Cage. Once upon a time…_

 _There was a castle of fire standing all alone in the woods. No one knew where it came from, nor who had built it. Many said that it was built the day the earth was created. The only thing people knew for certain was that it was evil._ "

"Now see how ridiculous that is Cassie? Can you build a castle out of fire?" He shook his head. "So how on earth can it be evil if it can't exist? Silly, you see?"

" _The flames were dark and smoldering and never wavered, even in the wettest of months. The serfs would leave yearly taxes at the gate. They had never seen their king, but did not want to risk his wrath. They lived in constant fear of him. Rumors of his vicious hounds destroying families and land spread wide. Many a prince and princess came to try and defeat the terrifying king and take his land, but those who entered the castle never came out._ "

"He had dogs do his dirty work. Have you ever heard of a king having a few mutts attack his peasants?"

"Lucifer said they're hell hounds." Castiel began twirling a lock of his hair nervously. Anael pursed her lips and flipped the page.

"That means it's just that much sillier. Hell hounds aren't real. Everyone knows that. Luci's just trying to scare you again."

"But what if he's right? I don't like hell hounds."

"They aren't real, Cassie! And even if they were, they're still just dogs. You know what dogs do?" He shook his head. "They lick people to death!" She grabbed at the soft side of his little body and made him wiggle about.

"Ana! No stop!" he laughed out. "I'm gonna fall!" She stopped tickling him and repositioned him back on her lap. "Why do you always tickle me?" he pouted.

"Because you're too serious, Little One. You never laugh unless I tickle it out of you."

"That's not true," he mumbled it so she could barely hear him. "I laughed when that goat kicked Samandriel that one time." Ana had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing outright.

"Alright let us return to the story, shall we? So a castle made of fire and dogs that lick people to death. Seems very unlikely if you ask me.

" _Then a prince from a faraway land rode to the castle after hearing the poor state of the peasants. He traveled for six weeks, asking directions in every town he stopped at. Eventually he came to the forest village the awful king ruled over._

_" 'Where might I find the king of this land?' he asked an old woman._

_'Oh you can't, dear. He is encased in a castle of fire and brimstone.'_

_'I wish to challenge him. How would I do so?'_

_'You will need to enter the castle,' she replied. He stooped form seemed to bend forward further._

_'Thank you. I shall do so. Good day.'_

_'Wait before you go, dear, would you fetch me some water?' The prince agreed and fetched her a drink from the river a few leagues north of that place. When he returned she smiled at him and presented him with a cloak made of phoenix feathers. 'This will help in your quest, kind young prince. God be with you.'_  "

"That's not right," Castiel said looking at the book carefully. "Phoenixes aren't real either."

"See? None of this could have happened. It's all made up to keep little children from acting up or wandering into the Between Woods." Castiel nodded, finally starting to see what she meant.

" _So the prince traveled two more days through the barren land towards the castle. When he came to the port, he drew the cloak around his shoulders. When he entered the keep, he found the king sitting on a throne of ash and skulls. The king was not old the way the rumors had said. He was not young either. He was chubby around the middle and sat lazily. He perked up when he saw the prince and smirked._

_" 'What can I help you with?' his voice was slimy, and the prince hesitated._

_'I am here to marry your daughter.'_

_'I don't have a daughter.'_

_'Your son then.'_

_'I see. You want my throne, don't you? You marry my son, he becomes king, and you follow, is that it?' The prince didn't know what to say, and before he could move, the stinking, smoldering hounds were upon him. 'You young people think you know everything. Did you think perhaps I like being king? Take him to The Cage.'_

_The Cage was a terrible dungeon. The walls were always wet with the blood of the unfortunate inmates, and the floor had no straw, only bones and peat. Food came once a week, and consisted of crusts ad water. This is where the prince stayed for three months until he died. The End._ "

"I don't like that story," Castiel sighed.

"Hmm. It does seem to lack the happy ending that all the others have, doesn't it?"

"It's scary, and the hero dies. The bad king wins."

"Not fair, is it?"

"No. I don't like it."

"That's why whenever you become king, you should not be like the king in the castle of fire."

"I won't be king, though. Never mind, let's read the one about the princes in the forest."

"Alright, Cassie," she flipped a few more pages and began once more, " _Once upon a time, there lived a prince in a castle of a faraway castle. He never felt at home in his castle and longed to visit the places in his stories…_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so we're back to weekend updates! Whoo-hoo! This is the start of the next story arc, so I guess get ready for fun things and Winchesters meeting the Crown Family????


	17. King To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stepped out of the room and closed the door with a sigh. His father was wasting away physically, but his mind was as sharp as it could be, given his malnourished state. He’d coughed up blood twice in Castiel’s presence, Queen Rebecca wiping it away almost as fast as it came up. Castiel wouldn’t deny the fact that he was doubly sad and scared of losing his father. He hated seeing his father stretched out under the thick comforters so that the only clue that he was even there was his skeletal, withering head.

“So let me get this straight. Your brother, Lucifer, second in line to the throne just up and disappears the night you make it back?” Balthazar parried Castiel’s sword easily and grunted as he blocked a downward swing.  
“He’s not second in line,” Castiel gritted out. “I am.” It was one of the conditions Gabriel forced on the bickering brothers. Personally, Castiel felt like Gabriel only added that particular clause to get back at Lucifer for some perceived slight. He tried to throw off Balthazar’s balance with a quick sideward swipe, but his friend easily dodged.  
Balthazar was a tall attractive man with short blond hair and wide eyes. His wild lifestyle as the son of a duke had left him looking haggard in his journey to middle age, some deep creases on his forehead and his lips fading into his skin. Other than that, he was rather unremarkable. That was mainly the reason he and Castiel were friends. They were almost the same height, which made Balthazar the perfect sparring partner. Neither particularly cared for the company of other nobles, even if it was for different reasons. When he was very little, Balthazar had studied in a kingdom seven days journey away from Celeta, and had such a good time that he’d been removed from his tutor and asked to never return. As such, he had a thick accent Castiel was unfamiliar with. The prince just barely stepped out of the way of Balthazar’s swing towards his chest.  
“Why are you second in line?”  
“I’m assuming it’s to keep Lucifer from killing Michael and taking the throne.”  
“Lucifer wouldn’t do that,” Balthazar scoffed. He swallowed a grunt and asked, “Would he?”  
“It’s hard to say, but knowing how unstable Lucifer can be at times, I wouldn’t put it past him.”  
“The death of one prince could be an accident,” Balthazar started, “but two princes, and people start to get suspicious.” Castiel nodded and sighed, jumping to his right to escape Balthazar’s dull foil. “Let me just say, Cassie, I’m glad I’m not your brother. Your family is literally insane.”  
“It could be worse, cousin,” Castiel pointed out. “Lucifer could be a pure-blood.” Balthazar rolled his eyes and parried again. They both huffed in exertion when suddenly, Balthazar tripped backwards and Castiel grabbed his shoulder to prevent his fall. “I think I win this round.”  
“I always forget how good you are at tiring your opponent out,” Castiel’s friend sighed. Castiel just tossed his foil towards the bench. Balthazar did the same and began stripping off his tawny leather gloves.  
“I’m only good in controlled matches, Balthazar.”  
“Hmm?”  
“In the Between Forest, I was useless. I know practically nothing about application.”  
“Well, is that even a problem? As second in line, you won’t ever really need to know about practical tactics.” He pronounced his accent obviously, as if it made him an authority on the subject. Castiel rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t try and comfort me, Balthazar.”  
“And besides, it’s not like you’re ever going into battle. Or the Between Woods, for that matter. You’re much too important.”  
Castiel sighed again and rolled his shoulders. “Unfortunately, that’s true.”  
“Unfortunate? Weren’t the Between Woods terrible? Why on earth would you want to go back? Why would you want to go to war?”  
“Forget I said anything. Broadswords next?”  
“That’d be nice, Cassie, really, but I have a feeling our session is over.” Balthazar lifted his chin towards the opposite side of the sparring ring. When Castiel looked over, Anael stood draped in a long brown dress ornamented with creamy bows and soft lace. Her arms were crossed and she leaned against the wall. Castiel pursed his lips and acknowledged her with a nod. He pulled off his own gloves, then rolled out of the leather training armor with Balthazar’s help. The bracers were particularly difficult that day, and it took a good while for him to finally speak to his sister.  
“You smell like a stable,” she crinkled up her nose in a grimace.  
“I was sparring. What did you expect?”  
“Roses and lilacs,” she countered. “You might want to freshen up. Michael has requested our presence, and he’s making a bit of a show about it.”  
“Wonderful.”  
“Go to the baths and rub some oil on yourself. Just to get rid of the smell. We’ll be in the Great Hall.”  
“I’ll be out soon enough.” He sprinted towards the baths as Ana had suggested, but found himself lingering in the water. He didn’t want to hear whatever Michael had to say. He relaxed his neck and rested in against the porcelain back of the tub. He thought he heard laughter, Sam’s deep voice, and the crackling of fire. He opened his eyes and the fantasy floated away with the steam.  
It must have been an hour before he was dressed and heading to the Hall. Michael sat perched in the Heir’s Throne while Gabriel and Anael stood arguing with him below. Their loud comments quieted as Castiel entered.  
“He must still be upset over the arrangement,” Michael muttered under his breath. It was fairly obvious to Castiel who and what they were discussing.  
“Of course he’s still upset. He didn’t get what he wanted. Spoiled brat.”  
“Watch your mouth, Gabriel,” Michael hissed with fury.  
“You may be in line for the throne, brother, but you’re not king yet. Don’t tell me how to treat my siblings,” Gabriel grit back at his older brother. “I already ordered Henriksen to call a covert search.”  
“Henriksen is practically useless.” Michael’s rage seemed to subside for a moment as he waved off Gabriel.  
“He is the commanding officer of the guard. If anyone is going to find Lucifer, it’s going to be him.”  
“I heard just last night that he allowed a number of Moondor thieves guard the East and West gates after mistaking them for his own soldiers,” Michael said in a sickly sweet tone. Gabriel only grind his teeth response. Despite his immature nature, Gabriel absolutely detested being treated like a child.  
“I have done everything in my power to locate our brother. Which is more than you can say.”  
Michael was about to fire off another invective at his brother when Anael cut him off. “Where is Mother?” she asked carefully. “Is she aware of the situation?”  
“She’s with Papa,” Gabriel replied lazily. He began pacing, one arm held behind his back, the other brought to his lips. “I’m not sure we should bother her with this quite yet. Luci might come back by for morning meal tomorrow for all we know.”  
“How is Father?” Castiel questioned, trying desperately to mollify his brothers. He hated having communal interactions with his family, and the heated argument from before still weighed heavily on his brow.  
“He’s not much better than when you left,” Gabriel answered with a deep breath. Castiel noticed Michael’s jaw clench at the mention of Castiel’s little “trip”. “Mama thinks the power of love will save him, even when magic and medicine can’t.”  
“Speaking of Father,” Michael turned to Castiel, “He requested your presence in his chambers sometime this morning.” Castiel did not like the way his brother’s eyes narrowed. “It would be a shame to keep him waiting. Especially in his state.” Castiel fought to swallow and nodded. Suddenly, the burn of his brother’s gaze was gone. “I must be off. I have to talk to Naomi about the markets.”  
“Good bye, brother,” Anael quietly said. Castiel and Gabriel echoed her with much less reverence. He stood from his ornate throne and descended the three steps. Then he disappeared out the curtained door way at the back of the Great Hall. When he was gone, Gabriel sighed and stopped his frantic pacing.  
“He and Lucifer need to breathe once in a while. They might as well be wearing corsets!” Gabriel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he turned to his two other siblings and grinned, bringing his hands together with a clap. “But what about little brother? What’s with the halo, Cassie?”  
Castiel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and lowered his gaze. Anael took over for him. “Cassie finally found his magic.”  
“Well obviously, Ana. But I want details!” Castiel rolled his eyes. Honestly, he wanted to go to the kitchens and get some fresh vegetables or pastries to eat. He was tired and hungry, and he had no desire to indulge Gabriel’s answerless questions. Somewhat luckily for him, his servant, Inias, appeared from where Michael had passed.  
“Prince Castiel, your mother, the Queen of Celeta, has requested you visit your father’s chambers immediately. Please follow me, my Lord.”  
“Do you feel up to this, Castiel?” Anael touched his shoulder. He clenched his jaw and steeled his mind. Without an answer, he stepped toward Inias and followed him back towards his father’s closet.  
As they exited the long vaulted room, Gabriel and his sister remained silent. Finally, he stepped towards her and said under his breath, “Why is his halo so bright? What the hell happened? Anael?” She licked her lips cautiously and shrugged his hand off her shoulder.  
“I don’t know Gabriel. It’s…strange.”  
“Enlighten me.”  
“I don’t want to say anything in case my assumptions are wrong.” When Gabriel sighed dramatically, she relented. “Fine. Actually, this works to my advantage. I could use your help in the library.”  
“Can’t you just tell me,” her brother whined. “I have a horse to ride tonight.”  
“And a maid to see about a rooster, I know. But this is your brother, Gabriel! I think-” she stopped short, and glanced about the hall. The only people around were the mandatory guards at the far end of the long chamber. “I need to look through all the magical history books we have in the Great Library. That’s over three hundred books, and I can’t do it on my own.”  
“Why on earth would you be looking into history? How in hell is that going to help us now?” Ana gave him a pointed glare and he shrugged. “Alright, I’ll help. But I think our time would be put to much better use in the Primers and Magical Studies.”  
“Which is why I’m in charge. If my speculation is correct, we should be able to find what we need before supper.”  
“As long as we’re at the table by the time dessert comes to the table, I’ll be a happy man.”  
~  
Castiel stepped out of the room and closed the door with a sigh. His father was wasting away physically, but his mind was as sharp as it could be, given his malnourished state. He’d coughed up blood twice in Castiel’s presence, Queen Rebecca wiping it away almost as fast as it came up. Castiel wouldn’t deny the fact that he was doubly sad and scared of losing his father. Regardless of whether or not they were close, he was still his father, and he’d done more for Castiel than his oldest siblings had ever tried to. He hated seeing his father stretched out under the thick comforters so that the only clue that he was even there was his skeletal, withering head.  
The prince turned around and rested the back of his head against the door. Glancing up at the ceiling, he let the thoughts roll off his mind, favoring instead the clip of echoing footsteps coming closer and closer. Castiel had not expected the footsteps to stop right in front of him. He dropped his head down and opened his eyes. Inias took his hand knowingly. Smiling, Castiel squeezed back.  
“How are you, Prince?”  
“Inias, you know that’s not necessary.”  
“Of course, Castiel. I forget at times.” Castiel’s lips twitched into a soft smile again.  
“I find it funny that everyone asks how I am, but not how my father is.”  
“The dead are all fine, Castiel. I am more concerned with the living.” The prince blew a long breath out of his lips and squeezed his servant’s hand again. Then he let it go.  
“I am as well as I can be. Come. I need a new chamber.”  
“Of course, Castiel.”  
~  
Sighing, Gabriel drew his fist up to the door. He didn’t understand why he was always the one who had to do the dirty work. He was exhausted from his time in the library with Anael. It had been mainly fruitless, but the fact that she had finally enlightened him on her theories made him feel a little bit better. Her promise of being done before dinner was unfortunately unfulfilled. All he’d wanted was to pretend to eat his vegetables and pork and then dig into sweetmeats. They’d all been sitting quietly at the table, waiting, but Mother refused to start supper without everyone present. Everyone.  
“…Even half kings like yourself, Mikey. So get your self-righteous ass out here, so I can eat my mutton.” No one answered his highly disrespectful comments. He tried again. “C’mon Mike! I’m hungry as hell, and so are you. Either you come out here, or I go in there.” Still nothing. “Alright, but you better not be jacking off.”  
Gabriel turned the lock with a flick of his wrist. That was unusual since Michael almost always put magical warding up, mainly to prevent this exact situation. But the door swung open with no issues. Gabriel stepped in and called out for his brother once more. The thick white curtains were drawn tightly over the windows, but other than that, the room looked fine. Cabinets closed, wash basin empty. The fancy rug still felt fresh under Gabe’s boots.  
But there on the ridiculous four-poster bed sat a card. Clunking in his shoes, Gabriel walked over and picked it up. He gently turned the heavy parchment over, looking for the seal. He used his dagger to open it and pulled out the note. Gabriel groaned as he read Michael’s flourished heavy handwriting.  
“Over dramatic assholes!”  
~  
When Gabriel burst back into the dining hall, his mother shot to her feet. The servants almost dropped their trays, and one of the minstrels in the balcony above the door hit a flat note.  
“Call off everything,” he panted, wide-eyes flashing between all present.  
“What? Gabriel, where is Michael?”  
“Gone. Just like Lucifer. Call off everything. The markets, the balls, the weddings, I don’t care! Call everything off!” He rushed over to his mother who was starting to hyperventilate in her rage.  
“Gabriel! What is the meaning of this!”  
“Look,” he stalked over and threw the letter on her plate. With shaking hands, Queen Rebecca took up the parchment and began to read. Castiel didn’t like the way all the blood drained from her face. He was already halfway out of his seat by the time she crumpled to the floor. Anael stood and dismissed all the servants and called for Inias.  
Gabriel took his mother’s limp form into his lap, struggling to put her back in her gold chair at the head of the table. Inias appeared and took over, doing a much better job. He hauled her healthy form over one of his shoulders and plopped her down in a chair near the edge of the hall, away from all the commotion. “Gabriel,” Castiel hissed as he helped his servant, “What is going on?”  
“I already said. Michael is gone. Same place as Lucifer.”  
“And that would be where?”  
“Dema.”  
“No, they can’t be in Dema. Why would they go there?”  
“Read the letter Castiel. I’m not really up to explaining.” He dropped into his mother’s chair and held his head in his hands. Whatever was in the letter was obviously distressing. So Prince Castiel took it up and scoured it intensely.  
Dear Mother and siblings,  
After a great deal of thought, I decided to go after Lucifer. He divulged to me the night before his disappearance that he was thinking of collecting on Father’s arrangements in Dema. My assumption is that once he realized that father would rightfully allow the throne to pass on to me, he decided to try for the throne of Dema. I am going to follow him and bring him home safely. Once he is home, I plan to imprison him for treason. My mission should not take more than seven days at most. As your future king, I expect you to respect my wishes. Do not come after me.  
Your son and heir to the throne, Michael  
Castiel read the short scrawling letter again. And then again. Finally, he looked over to Gabriel with his eyes wide. “You don’t think he means-”  
“The engagements, most likely, yes. Lucifer can’t get any power here, so he’s going to try to get it in Dema.”  
“But Lilith is in line for the throne, not Azazel. How does expect to get anywhere with Michael’s fiancée?”  
“I’m sure King Crowley will be more than willing to negotiate, the old bloodsucker.” Anael quietly stood up and went to their mother. Inias had brought her smelling salts and she was just starting to come to.  
“My babies…” she muttered, “my babies are going to get eaten.”  
“Shh, Mother, it’s okay. We’ll find them. It’s okay,” Anael tried to sooth.  
“My husband is dying slowly, and my babies will be dead before the end of the day!” she wailed. Mother had always been a little dramatic.  
“We’ll find them, Mother,” whispered her daughter. She looked to Castiel pleadingly. “Castiel,” she called. There wasn’t any real meaning to it; she only needed affirmation. He stuttered out a nod and clenched his jaw.  
“We can’ go after them!” Gabriel almost shouted. “Michael gave clear instructions not to go after him! He’ll have our heads if we break his orders.”  
“When have you been one for following orders?” asked Castiel. For a moment no one said a word, and the only sound in the echoing hall was his mother’s heaving breaths.  
“You’re right. Let’s go find those stupid ass brats.” Gabriel took Castiel by the arm and pulled him out of the dining hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't know why there's sudden;y an influx of comments, but oh gosh wow, thank you guys so much for your feedback! You honestly don't know what it means to me thank thank thank!!
> 
> Anyway, feel free to ask questions or make comments. I love hearing from you all!


	18. Queen of Moondor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well with all the information you’ve been gathering, I’m not convinced it’s so cut and dry,” Dean pushed a bowl full of beets towards the wash basin in a show of frustration. He huffed, scratched a hand through his short dusty hair and put an elbow on the counter. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve gotta be careful about this. I don’t like the way you tear yourself apart trying to get better at this whole magic thing even though we don’t really understand it.”

The three siblings stood around the tactical table in the General’s Closet.  Gabriel was insisting that Lucifer would have taken the East exit and swept around towards Dema later on in his trek.  Castiel agreed, since he said that was the path with the least amount of royal guards.   They used the bright red figurines to show approximately how far Lucifer could travel in a day.  Michael was a bit harder to predict.  He was King-to-be, so he could have taken practically any path he liked.  Eventually, all three of them settled on saying Michael would go out the front gate and make a direct bee-line towards Dema, using what Castiel called the Fairy Tunnels, and forcing his way through any other rough terrain.  Gabriel used the blue figurines to show on the table top map where they predicted Michael would be.  If their predictions were correct, Lucifer would reach Dema in five days, while Michael would only take four.  Since Lucifer had left about one day ahead of Michael, Anael said with almost complete certainty that they would arrive in Dema only hours apart.  The confirmation from the Main Gate only added to their certainty.

“So what’s the plan?” Gabriel said spinning one of the unused green figurines on his index finger.

“Well obviously, we follow Michael’s path and try to find him first,” Ana responded.  She pointed to his figurines on the table.  “If we hurry, we can probably stop him before he gets to the fairy caves around here.”

“Unlikely,” Castiel dismissed.  “The fairy caves are hidden behind a waterfall.  He could spend hours looking for them and never find them.  He’s probably going to end up going over or around them, along this path.”  Castiel pushed the figures into a sweeping curve around the hilly terrain.  His siblings looked up at him in awe.  “What?  What’s the matter?”

“Alright, what else should we know about the forest?” Gabriel was completely serious, which was a bit of a shock to his younger brother.

“Um, well, he’ll also be pushing through werewolf territory in this general area, I think.  But he won’t know that, so he might get ambushed.”  He thought hard about the terrain, searching for any other information he might know.  He rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily.  “I don’t know.  I let the Winchesters to most of the navigating.  You might want to talk to them.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Anael said.  Her eyes were wide and sparkling.  “Dean told you you could call Sam, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back,” and with that she was gone.  Castiel turned his gaze back to Gabriel.  His older brother’s brows were drawn together and he had one hand in a fist under his chin.

“What’s the matter Gabriel?”

“I’m just thinking.”  Castiel knew that was not a good thing.  Gabriel only thought when it was his advantage.

“What are you thinking, Gabriel?”

“Ana tells me you’re “friends” with the Winchester boys.”

“I am, I believe.”

“Well, then it’s settled.”  And he walked out after Anael.

“What?  What’s settled?  Gabriel!” 

~

“Are you still on that whole “magic is dangerous” spiel?”

“Yeah, Sam.  I am,” Dean threw back.  Pam was wisely leaving the kitchen for this argument.  These brotherly discussions rarely ended well for on-lookers.

“Stop worrying about me Dean.  I’m an adult and I can handle my own problems.”

“Well excuse me for getting concerned when my brother practically keels over every time someone calls him.  It’s a little more than distressing.”

“I just need more practice,” Sam huffed.

“Great.  Great.  You need to practice something that comes this close to killing you in order for it not kill you.  That’s flawless logic if I’ve ever heard it!”

“I don’t need this, Dean.  Pam’s making sure nothing bad happens.  Why can’t you just let me do this?”

“Because it’s dangerous, and dark, and it’s what got Mom and Dad killed.”

“No Dean, demons killed Mom and Dad.  Magic is just a residual of demons.”

“Well with all the information you’ve been gathering, I’m not convinced it’s so cut and dry,” Dean pushed a bowl full of beets towards the wash basin in a show of frustration.  He huffed, scratched a hand through his short dusty hair and put an elbow on the counter.  “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve gotta be careful about this.  I don’t like the way you tear yourself apart trying to get better at this whole magic thing even though we don’t really understand it.”

“I understand it fine, Dean.  I was possessed, you exorcised and killed the demon, and it left behind magic, just like pretty much every other meat bag that’s been unlucky enough to have a demon in them.  That’s how it’s always been and you know it.”

“I still don’t like it.  And I’m not convinced!  We’re still not sure if Ruby left any other trinkets lying around in your head, now are we?”

“Dean, I’m fine!” Sam laughed without a smile, “I just need more practice!  And Pam was going to help with that before you scared her away.”  Dean could only scowl at his brother with grit teeth.  Sam raised his eyebrows and fanned out his massive hands.  “They’re my powers, Dean.  I get to decide how I use them.  Besides, I didn’t see you complaining about them when you told your little prince to give you a call.”  Sam couldn’t resist, it was just too easy.  Snorting, Dean gave away any innocence he was probably trying to protect.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the older man lied.  Sam rolled his eyes for the hundredth time that day and made for the kitchen exit.

“I’m going after Pam.  Try not to ruin supper.”

“Screw off, you big bitch.”  Sam just flicked a hand in dismissal as he pushed through the door.  Dean sighed again and went back to making beets and gruel for that night’s crowd.

Just then Sam yelled and one of the tables in the bar crashed to the floor.  Dean was out of the kitchen immediately, helping his brother into the nearest chair.

“What is it?  Who’s calling you?”

“Dean…Shut up.”  Sam hunched over and grunted, coughing and spitting.  “Go get me some water and food.”  When Dean returned, Sam was sitting a little more comfortably, his eyes closed, talking in a hushed tone.  “We’ll have to consider it.  No, that’s not necessary.  It’s just that it’s strange, even for us.  Okay, no we won’t tell anyone.  Dean’s here, gimme a second.”  He took the mug of water and downed the whole thing in one gulp.  Then he took a huge bite of the cold potpie Dean offered.  “Would you mind getting the chalice?  I’m having trouble feeling my legs.”  Dean got the old thing down from the mantel piece without a word.  He re-entered the room and found Pam sitting across from Sam with his hands in hers.

Sam took the chalice and used the same knife he’d used for the potpie on his arm.  Pamela sighed and passed a healing hand over the cut once he had enough blood to resume his call.  Dean joined them at the table to help monitor.  Pam held out her free hand to him, and he took it, regardless why she was offering it.  Sam chanted some strange words, and suddenly Ana’s voice rang out in the hall.

“Can Dean hear me now too?” she asked.

“Yeah, I can hear you just fine.  Sam, what the hell?”  He had no idea this was even possible.  Calls had always been a two-person deal as far as he knew, and this was messing with his head.

“I told you.  Pam and I have been working on it,” bit out his younger brother.  Pam chuckled quietly.

“So will you help us?  I know it’s too much to ask, but I have to regardless,” said the princess softly.

“Give me a second to explain to Dean.”

“Explain what?”

“Our brother Lucifer ran out last night and headed to Dema.  Our other brother, Michael went out after him.  We have a feeling Lucifer is trying to infringe upon Michael’s engagement with Lilith, and Michael has already sentenced Lucifer to imprisonment.  We need to catch them before they catch each other.”

“They’re going to Dema?” Dean confirmed.  Sam rolled his eyes and gave him a face.

“Yes, and they want to know if we’ll escort Prince Gabriel and Prince Castiel to help track their brothers.”   Sam let out a long breath and leaned back in his seat.  He picked at the pot pie, obviously still a little sick from the initial call.  Dean thought about the request for a moment before answering.

“That’s pretty dangerous.  Having four people together in the Woods is just asking for trouble.  And if two of them are inexperienced, pompous princes, well shoot, we could be dead before the first hour’s up.”  Sam’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at Dean’s total lack of respect.  The older man just shrugged.

“Be that as it may,” Ana sighed, like she agreed with him, “It needs to be done or my mother will throw herself out the keep window.”

“I got to admit, when you royals ask for a favor you _really_ ask for a favor.”  Pam snorted at Dean’s flippancy, but said nothing.

“You’d be recompensed, obviously.  You already have our favor for helping Castiel.  We would be even deeper in your debt.”

“There’s no debt, Ana,” sighed Dean.  These princes and princess had this weird idea that they had to pay Sam and Dean back for being decent human beings.  Really, they didn’t.

“I’m all in favor of it.  I wanted to head towards Dema anyway,” Sam conceded.  He gave a quick, pointed glare at Dean as if to bully him into agreeing.  Then he took a large bite of cold potpie.

“I’ll say yes for the moment, but I think we need to mull this over a little more.  We need an actual plan.”

“Of course,” the princess agreed.  “You must come to the castle immediately.  We have already sent guards out to fetch you, so they should meet you about halfway to the castle.”

“Alright, we’ll gather our things and head out.  We’ll see you soon, your grace.”

“God be with you.”  Then Pam and Sam let go of Dean’s hands, as well as each other’s and the connection broke.  The blood within the chalice settled and Dean felt his mind clear.

“Don’t pull that kind of shit on me with no explanation,” groused Dean.  He crossed his arms and pouted to himself.  Sam stood, but he didn’t get too far before he collapsed back into the chair.  “Here you big monster, I’ll pack our things.  You finish that pie.”

Dean could practically feel the idea bouncing around his head.  He mounted the stairs and cursed under his breath.  One prince had been a challenge, but two?  That was going to be damned near impossible.  But they could use any favors the crown was willing to offer.  Approaching the room he and his brother shared, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

When he was finished packing what meager items they had left after trading and returned to the table, Pam was helping Sam stand.  She told Dean to head to the stables.  Dean hefted the roll of white fabric he’d bought up under his armpit and followed them.  He left Sam to watch their empty bags while he and Pam saddled up Baby and Ford.

“You had best come back and let us know what’s happening,” Pam commented as she helped Sam into the saddle.

“Well, we’ll try, but I’m still not even sure what’s going on.  Shit!  What about Bobby?  He still thinks we’re meeting up.”

“Don’t worry, Dean.  We’ll take care of it,” she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.  He pulled her into a big hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Thanks Pammy.”

“Just go help the Crown, would you?  I hate to lose two kings in one year.”  Dean let her go.  He hopped up on his horse and took the reins.

“Jo and Ellen will be angry enough to spit when they realize we left without saying good bye.”

“I’ll take care of that, too.  Now just git!”  She slapped Baby on the rear and the horse jolted as she started a trot.

“And take care of Adam, too would you?” Sam called back weakly.  “That’s my baby brother.”

Pam waved them off until they turned out of Ellen’s property and she disappeared behind the buildings.  Dean sighed at the noise their armor made on Ford’s back.  Then he laughed at how absurd the whole situation was.  He and his brother were going to the castle to see if they could help track down the heir to the throne and his brother.  He was still chuckling when a shaggy looking bay horse raced out in front of them and stopped.  Ford and Baby whinnied as their riders pulled back on the reins.

“Hey, hey buddy!  We’re tryin’ to ride here!” Dean complained.  “The hell you think you’re doing?”  The rider took of their helmet and both brothers gaped at the long tresses of orange hair that tumbled out of it.

“Hello boys.”

“Ana?” Sam hazarded.  He was still a little out of it, so Dean gave him some slack.  He shook his head, not taking his eyes off their guest.

“Name’s Charlie.  You might have heard of me.”

“Can’t say we have,” Dean grit back at her.

“Shit, seriously?  You know, Charlie?  Queen of the Moondor Thieves?”  When both of the boys gave her a blank stare, she grumbled and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Wait a minute,” Dean said as he squinted, “I know you!”

“Yes!  You do! Everyone knows about the Moondoor Thieves!”

“No, no, not like that.  I recognize your chin.  You were that lady guard who let us in the gates!”  Sam looked between his brother and the girl before saying, “Oh yeah, you’re right.”

“Ugh, whatever,” she dismissed.

“Well, Charlie, if that is your real name, we’d love to talk to a thief queen and apparently wanted criminal, but we don’t have time for this.  We’re sort of needed somewhere more important than here.”  He was about to spur Baby on when the small woman shouted at them with a fierce determination.

“I need your help!”

“What.”

“I need your help, or I mean, Gilda needs your help, and I plan on helping you help her.  What I mean to say is-”

“Calm down there, girl.”

“What do you need?  Who’s Gilda?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Sam!  We don’t have time for this!  Castle?  King?  Remember?”

“Just a second, Dean.  She’s asking for help.  Since when do we just pass up on those in need?”

“Fine, make it quick.”

“King Crowley of Dema stole my beloved Gilda and imprisoned her to use her powers,” Charlie rushed through the words so fast Dean almost didn’t catch them.  “I need help freeing her.”

“Powers?  She’s a magic user then?”

“She’s a fairy.”

“A fairy?!” Sam’s entire posture shifted.  He sat up straighter and leaned into the conversation.  They were just lucky there weren’t many other people using that alley way at the moment.  “Shit Dean.  Do you have any idea what kind of power that could give Dema?  They could use a fairy to power thousands of troops.”

“Look, I know that’s a big problem, but we don’t know you, Lady.  And we already have a super dangerous job to deal with, so if we could pass, that’d be awesome.”

“Oh, you mean finding the princes do you?”

“What?  How do you know about that?”

“I have me sources,” she bragged and absently looked at her nails.  “I also happen to have information about that particular issue that could be helpful to you, but if you don’t want to help me, I’ll just be on my way.”  She gently flicked her reins, but before she could get far, Sam called out.

“Wait!”

“Sam, what the hell?  We don’t have time for this!  She’s obviously lying.”

“How do you know about all of this?”

“I told you-”

“You’ve got sources, yeah.  But give us a reason to trust you.”

“I can’t.  The only thing I can offer is that if you don’t help, Dema will be mounting an attack in the near future.  Everything you know about right now is a giant plot.”  Sam thought for a moment, and even in his exhausted state, he managed to think through her statement.

“The princes!” Sam exclaimed.  Charlie nodded enthusiastically.  “Crowley is trying to sever the head, and then mount an attack isn’t he?”  Charlie almost fell off her horse she was nodding so fervently.

“Exactly!  You _have_ to help me.”

“And what exactly do you suggest?  We just ride up to the castle with an apparently well-known thief and say, ‘Hey highest authorities in the kingdom, mind if we bring her along?’  Yeah, that’ll go well.”  Dean prodded Baby towards another alley and started heading down it.  A few moments later Sam rode up alongside her.

“She’s meeting us at the gate when we leave.”

“Are fucking kidding me?  Seriously, Sam?”

“Dean, finding her fairy, Gilda, is just as important as finding the princes in my book.”

“Ugh, fine.  I can’t do anything about it now I guess,” he growled as he glanced back at the alley from which they came.  Sure enough, Charlie had vanished.  He grunted in frustration.  “I hate you, you know that right?”

“Jerk.  I’m trying to help people.  Like Dad always said, right? Saving people?”

“Yeah, saving _people_ , Sammy.  Not fairies.  Two different things.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I just didn’t realize you were racist.”

“What?! I’m not racist!”

“Technically speaking, I’m not human you know.  Am I worth helping?”

“Dammit, Sammy, you can’t use logic to tell me I’m wrong!”  Sam grinned, knowing he’d already won.  “You’re a manipulative little bitch, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Let’s just get to these guards.”  So the two started up a swift gallop towards the center of the kingdom.


	19. Portal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We simply need you to track down Michael or Lucifer. Either one will do, but both would be preferable. Once you do, have Gabriel call me, and I’ll open a portal for you.”

Castiel paced around the throne in the Great Hall.  Gabriel sat reclining in their father’s throne, Ana had her legs crossed demurely under her small less ornate throne to his left.  Castiel stopped in front of them opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t think of the words.  He clenched his jaw and began pacing again.

“If you have something to say Cassie, might as well just do it,” Gabriel hummed.  He was currently leading a small dragon composed of smoke around in the air with his index finger.  When Castiel huffed and faced them once more, the creature dissipated into the air.

“I’m just having trouble understanding what you were thinking when you decided it would be a good idea to contact the Winchesters”

“Well,” Gabriel said pensively, “They’re highly trained trackers, killers, and they know their way around the Between Woods like none of us do.”  He gave a sinful smirk.  “Plus Ana says you made friends of the brutes.  Can’t wait to see what kind of hairy monsters they are.”  Anael snorted into her sleeve with laughter.

“They aren’t brutes, Gabriel.  They are men, same as you and I.”

“Sure, sure.  The point still stands.  Us four will be going into the Between Woods like the holy crusaders of old.”

“That’s not what it’s going to be like at all.  There is no romance in the woods, Gabriel.  It is death, not flowering stories.  You’d do well to learn that before the Winchester’s arrive.”

At that moment, Inias’s shouts echoed into the chamber.  “Wait, you can’t go in there!  I need to announce you, wait!”  The oak doors creaked open, but then swung easily on their oiled hinges.  Three figures, one of which was Inias, came trotting into the hall.

“I’m sorry, did I say ‘brutes’?  I meant handsome young men,” Gabriel sprang out of his father’s throne with disturbing zeal.  “Hello!  You must be the Hunters Winchester!”

“You must be Gabriel,” the shorter one replied.  His tone was bored and sardonic.  Gabriel smirked up at him.

“It seems my reputation precedes me.”

“I’ll fuckin’ say.”

“Dean!  Show a little respect,” the taller one grit from between his teeth.  Gabriel looked the taller man up and down.  His grin got wider when he looked back at Castiel.  With a lewd wink, he hopped down the steps and went to shake their hands.

“Alright!  Let’s get going.  The sooner the better after all,” the prince said with a stupid grin.  Dean rolled his eyes.

“Not so fast.  We need a strict plan of what’s going on.”  Anael finally stood and presented her hand to each of the boys to kiss.

“You already know what we need help with.  I trust this has more to do with the exact logistics and payment?”

“Pretty much.”

“We simply need you to track down Michael or Lucifer.  Either one will do, but both would be preferable.  Once you do, have Gabriel call me, and I’ll open a portal for you.”  Gabriel let out a low whistle.

“You sure you’re up for that, Ana?  That’s a lot of energy you’ll be wasting.”

“I have quite a bit saved up.  I’ll keep adding to it while you’re away, but I probably won’t be able to hold the portal open for a very long time.  Call me the moment you have them.”

“Alright.  Tracking, finding, calling.  What happens when we get back?”  Dean asked.

“Michael wrote that he will imprison his Lucifer for treason, but we will hopefully be able to talk him out of it.  Then once father is gone, Michael will take the throne as planned.  You will be knighted and given free range of the kingdom.  Diplomatic immunity and a hefty sum of gold for your troubles.”  Dean finally smiled, shooting his grin over his shoulder at Sam.  The younger man rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Alright, sounds good to me.  We’re the best there is, anyway.  How hard can it be to track a couple of incompetent princes?”  Sam could have strangled his brother.  He hissed out a warning, but Dean just laughed.  He felt Castiel’s eyes on his face, but avoided giving eye contact back.

“You got provisions?”

“Of course, Dean-o.  I’m insulted that you’d even suggest we weren’t prepared,” Gabriel said with a fake hurt lacing his voice.  “Inias, go get the stable boys to saddle our horses.”  The dark-haired servant bowed and scurried out of the hall.  Gabe turned to his sister, “And make sure to call Henrickson off the hunt.”

“I still don’t understand why I must go,” Castiel complained.  Anael sighed and took his shoulder in her small hand.

“it’s complicated, Cassie.  It’s about the power dynamic.”

“If Michael sees you out there, he might think his throne is in danger.  Then he’ll scurry on back here with no fight,” Gabriel elaborated as he pulled on his riding gloves.  “Alright, boys!  Let’s head to the Between Woods!”  And the oldest prince practically skipped off to one of the side exits, disappearing in the twisting corridors of the Keep.  Castiel sighed deeply.

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the stables where Inias has no doubt put your horses.”

“Lead the way, Princess,” Dean gestured with a smirk.  Castiel could feel his cheeks lighting up as Anael snickered behind his back.  He let out a heavy breath through his nose and clenched his jaw.  Then he led them as graciously as he could toward the western side of the castle.

~

The guards kept exchanging nervous glances as they opened the main gate.  Dean could hear whispers of, “Twice in the same week,” and “what’s going on?”  or his favorite, “Are we going to war?”  He was so wrapped up in the poor gate-keepers gossip that he completely forgot about the strange red-head from earlier.  In fact, Sam must have forgotten too, because neither of them said anything about the thief queen until the guards started shrieking and scattering.  A loud, high-pitched scream rang through the air.  Suddenly that scraggly bay horse from earlier shot out of the commotion, its rider grinning like mad, and the guards yelling and pointing after her.

“The hell is that about?” Gabriel asked in bemused confusion.

“Shit,” Sam muttered under his breath.  The horse’s hooves pounding on the ground only got closer and closer.

“Dean?” Castiel looked to him with fear, and Dean couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Don’t worry about it.  Leave it to me.”  The guards began closing the gates, and Dean frantically pounded Baby’s sides.  If those gates closed before Charlie got back through them, there was no way they’d be able to avoid her.  “C’mon Baby, gotta go faster!”

“Oh hello, Dean.  Did you forget something?” Charlie asked sweetly.

“Look, we’ll handle your fairy problem, but it’s dangerous for you to be out here.   You need to get back through those gates while you still can.”  He pointed forcefully towards the hulking wooden gates behind her.  She made a flourish as she put her hand to her ear.

“What’s that I hear?”  The gates crashed closed and Dean let out a frustrated grunt.  “Looks like I can’t go back.  You’ll just have to take me with you.”  Dean ran both his hands through his short hair and groaned.  How on earth was he going to explain this to the princes?

“Fine, come on.”  They trotted up to the party, Sam giving Dean the most disbelieving face.  The princes shifted in their saddles, side-eyeing each other.  “Gabe, Cas, this is Charlie.  Charlie, Princes Gabriel and Castiel.”

Charlie whistled and stretched out a hand.  “Great to meet two of my biggest fans.”  Castiel went rigid as she shook his hand.  He gave Dean yet another soul-searching look.

“Wait, Charlie, as in Queen of Moondor, Charlie?” Gabriel said forcefully.

“Yup.  See, Dean.  _They’ve_ heard of me.”

“Are you,” Castiel stuttered, “are you friends with her?”

“Hardly,” Dean managed to snort before Gabriel went wild.

“Queen Charlie!” he grinned.  Dean didn’t like that look on him.  He’d heard the stories.  “You, my dear, are an inspiration!  Tell me, how did you manage to rob Duke Ezekiel’s stores?  He had security all over the place!  And what about the time you raided the markets and replaced all the rice crops with maggots?  Classic!  I gotta know.”  Charlie giggled and tapped her nose.

“Trade secrets, Your Majesty.”  Gabriel huffed and slumped in his saddle.

“Why are you here?  What business have you with us?” Castiel said in a strained voice.

 

“You?” she asked incredulously.  “Nothing.  I’m here for the Winchesters.  Speaking of which, that information I promised you…” She crossed her arms and looked pensive for a moment.  “Oh right!  Lucifer’s already made it to Dema if my prophet saw right.”

“What?” Dean and Gabriel balked at the same time.

“Yup, some sort of portal opened up once he reached the edge of the forest, and he just popped out on the other side in Dema.”

“That’s impossible.  Portals require ridiculous amounts of energy.  They would have had to plan that for months!”

“Not if they had a fairy.”  Charlie’s gaze was biting as she spit the words out.

“They can’t have a fairy, can they?” Gabriel was getting anxious.

“They have my fairy.  And they’re gonna use her and the temporary lapse in Celeta kingship to mount an invasion.  This whole thing is a trap.”

“What?” exclaimed the oldest prince.  Castiel himself was reasoning through it.  Everything she said made sense, but that didn’t mean they could trust her.

“Why are you trying to save the kingdom?  You have very little to gain from your actions.  The only thing that would change for you would be the ruling family,” he said calmly.

“Hey, less talking, more riding towards Dema,” Dean used Baby as a knife to cut their conversation.  “You can interrogate while we move, but we don’t got time for this.”  Obediently, everyone began a good-paced trot towards the looming trunks of the forest in the distance.

“For your information, Princely, I don’t really give a shit about the kingdom.  I just want Gilda back.  Oh, and if the ruling family changes, that means the guards change too.  I don’t know about you, but I kind of like the hapless guards we have now, so…I am benefiting.  Plus, I figure if I can help, I might be able to pick up on some of those perks you’ve offered the brothers.”

“How can you know about that?” Sam questioned.

“I told you already, Big Boy.  I have my sources!  Hi-ya!” and her horse took off.  The boys were left in the dust as she raced ahead of them.  Dean and Gabriel grunted.

“God damn it,” the hunter breathed out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is so late! I had a huge TOK essay to work on and it took a lot longer than I expected. Hope this chapter makes up for it! <3


	20. The Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There, half-in and half-out was a man dressed in dark leather and a black tunic. He laid face down in the dirt, bleeding from his back. Dean jumped off Baby’s back and sprinted the rest of the way. Sam and Ford were right after him, and soon the brothers were hauling the man out of the pond. The man was tall, though not as tall as Sam, with dark hair and pale skin. He felt Gabriel go rigid beside him.

Nothing of consequence followed them through the woods.  There was talk about trade taxes and general economics between Charlie, Cas, and Sam, and Gabriel and Dean held conversations about stupid things their little brother’s had done as children.  Turns out Cas had worn a dress until about age eight; which was all fun and games for the older prince until his brother reminded him in a hiss that he’d worn dresses until he was thirteen, so he might want to shut his mouth.  Dean laughed outright at Gabe’s paled face, and he could have sworn he saw a smirk on Cas’s stoic countenance.

They camped early that night, figuring they could get an early start the next morning.  Dean took the first watch, then switched with Sam, who switched with Charlie.  By that time, they were all awake anyway.  The Between Woods did not make the best sleeping accommodations.  Between the gut wrenching fear that every moment was the last you’d ever have and the eerie way the chilling wind moved through the trees, sleep was fitful at best.

They packed up what little they’d taken out to eat with and sleep on, and then they headed off once more.  Castiel thought that he might remember a few of the trees and more identifiable stone arrangements, but then again, he might just be trying to comfort himself.  He glared whenever Dean laughed at his jumpiness.  When he heard the waterfall crashing in the distance, he perked up in his saddle.

“I think we should break for mid-day meal” Sam finally said.  Castiel and Gabriel and Charlie all agreed whole heartedly.  The princes had brought more than enough food for all of them, but Sam and Dean decided to finish off the food Pam had packed in their hurry to the castle.  So while Charlie and the princes feasted on dried quail and tender greens, Sam and Dean did their best with jerky and hard stale bread.  They rested on a blanket from the castle that Charlie had spread on the ground.  Dean was a little wary of how well she and Gabe got along, but they seemed harmless at the moment.

“So what are all the Moondor thieves doing with their queen missing?” Gabriel asked nonchalantly.

“Oh, I left my second in command with them.”

“And your second knows what to do?”

“Oh don’t you worry your pretty little head, Princely, Dorothy knows what she’s doing.”

“And what exactly would that be?  That she’s doing?”

“Sweetheart,” Charlie gave him a look, “If I give you all my secrets, I won’t have any for myself, now will I?”  Gabriel only smiled and waggled his eyebrows at her.

“But you wouldn’t deny a prince now would you?”

“Hell yeah I would!  Now a princess…” she tapped her bottom lip with her forefinger and gave him a sly smirk.  Gabriel’s mouth dropped, but quickly turned into an evil-looking smile.

“Oh, I like you!”

“I’m going for a walk,” Dean sighed.  “I need to check the path ahead.  The werewolves have probably moved towards Dema with the coming winter.”

“I should go get some more firewood,” grunted Sam as he stood.  When Dean glared at him he rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll be sure to stay close to the royalty.  Don’t worry.”  They both huffed sighs at the other and went about their business.  Castiel watched Dean vanish between the slivers of tree trunks.

When he turned back to his brother and Charlie, they were both staring, knowing smirks on their faces.  “So, little brother,” Gabriel pried, “you gonna tell us what’s up between you and Dean-o?”

“I’m not sure to what you’re referring to.”

“Oh come on, Cassie!  If two stared at each other anymore, I’d say you managed to bewitch him!”

“I didn’t bewitch him!” Cas defended.  Charlie giggled and bit her tongue not to say anything about the flush creeping up the prince’s neck.

“And that halo,” Gabe let out a low whistle, “that’s impressive.  You’ve gotta teach me how to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Seal grace in a human of course!  Ana mentioned it to me.  Even let me help research, although she won’t tell me her theories yet.  You know how she can get.”

“Dean is a good friend, who I trust with my life.  I have no idea where you’re getting these notions of romance.”

“I hate to say it, your grace,” Charlie finally spoke, “But you look at him the way Gilda looks at me, so if that’s not love, then Gilda’s got some things to explain to me.”

“See, there you go!”

“We are friends,” Castiel growled out.

“Well, you won’t be for much longer, if I have anything to say about it,” Charlie grinned.

“Should I remind you that we are on a life-or-death mission, and that my romantic life, barren as it is, should be of tertiary importance?”

“Oh lighten up Cassie.  It’s not like we’re gonna impede the plan.  Just sort of…help you two along,” teased Gabe.  He glared at them both.

“I refuse.”

“Well in my mind, you two are already kissing and feeling each other up when no one else is around, so I’m not sure how much that refusal is gonna matter.”  Castiel tried to grasp some sort of way to make them see that this was ridiculous, but choked on his own breath.  He finally just closed his mouth with a click, and turned his face away from his companions.

“Enough about Cassie though.  Let’s talk about Moose!”

“Moose?”

“Sammy.  The big guy.  I am gonna climb him like a tree!”  Gabriel fanned himself and Charlie laughed.

“Sam is not interested in men.”  Castiel hadn’t meant to sound so biting, but it was difficult given the heat in his cheeks.

“Huh, well he obviously hasn’t been in with me then,” was all Gabe said.  “It’s fine.  Enough time around me and he’ll realize the error of his ways.”

“I doubt it,” Castiel sighed.  “I’m afraid you’re not as charming as you think.”

“Oh, Cassie, I’m wounded!  Charlie, tell him I’m a charmer.”

“I’m afraid I can do no such thing, your majesty!” she raised her hands in defense.  Gabriel made a show of rolling his eyes and sighing.

“Fine then.  Tell us about your fairy, why don’t you?”

“Oh, Gilda? Gilda is perfect.  That’s pretty much all there is to it.”

“But how?  I mean, no one’s seen fairies in a long time, and you just happen to be dating one?  How’d you meet? Any magical perks?”

“Well, we met in a black market deal.”  Castiel’s head snapped back towards the conversation.  That was certainly a strange place to meet anyone.  “This guy, a salesman from Dema had her in chains.  Apparently, he had a buyer in the aristocracy.  He was gonna sell her as a slave, had her branded and everything,” Charlie sighed.  Gabe ran his hand down her back in a comforting gesture.  “I couldn’t just leave her there like that, you know?  And the guy said if I could outbid the buyer, he’d give her to me.  I hate to admit it, but I took part in a slave-deal.  Bought her like a piece of furniture.”

“But you surely did not keep her as a slave?” Castiel prompted.

“Of course not!  Once my subjects had gathered all the gold we needed, and she was mine, so to speak, I let her out of those chains and told her to go home.  She said she didn’t have one, and that she owed me a wish since I saved her.  She stuck around and a year later she just kissed me and that was that.”

“What’d you wish for?” Gabe asked.

“Hah, well funny story, I haven’t used it yet.”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I kind of have everything I could ever want, so…” she shrugged.  “And honestly, at this point in our relationship, I feel like she’d grant any wishes I had, regardless of obligation.”

“You two are that in love, huh?”

“Oh yeah.  Dorothy’s always telling me how gross we are,” she thought as a dreamy haze passed over her face.  Suddenly it was gone, and she stood.  “Whelp.  I’ve gotta pee.  Be back in two shakes.”

~

The hunters returned shortly after.  Sam threw the firewood he’d gathered on the dying, smoldering excuse for a flame they had kindled a few feet away from the blanket.  Dean stepped forward through the trees and collapsed onto the green blanket with a sigh.

“Nothing around?”

“Nothing of consequence.  There’s an old sleep den down the way, but they’ve been gone for at least a day. “

“Well that’s encouraging.”

“I’ll say.  The last thing we need with all this,” Dean waved at the group in front of him, “is a werewolf ambush.”

“We should probably get moving in the next few minutes.  We wanna be out of the cave before sunset,” Sam replied.

“Gimme a second.”  The others were pretty quiet and listened to the brothers bicker about how long a “second” actually was.  Eventually, Dean stood back up and started packing.  Charlie put out the fire, and Castiel helped load the water jugs back onto his and his brother’s horses.  They all re-mounted their animals and headed towards the rushing crash of the waterfall.  On the way, the temperature dropped and Castiel found himself shivering in his saddle.  Dean happened to notice, and tossed him the blanket they’d sat on earlier.

“Wrap that around your shoulders.  Don’t want you catching royal case of frostbite.”  Cas could swear he heard Gabe and Charlie grinning stupidly at each other.  He quietly thanked the hunter and did as he’d said.  When he looked up, Sam was elbowing Dean roughly in the shoulder.  “Oh shut up, Sam,” he groaned, but his little brother only laughed harder.

It took a while, but eventually they made it to the waterfall.  At first, Castiel couldn’t put his finger on what was different, but Baby shooting forward to the pond’s edge certainly helped.  There, half-in and half-out was a man dressed in dark leather and a black tunic.  He laid face down in the dirt, bleeding from his back.  Dean jumped off Baby’s back and sprinted the rest of the way.  Sam and Ford were right after him, and soon the brothers were hauling the man out of the pond.  The man was tall, though not as tall as Sam, with dark hair and pale skin.  He felt Gabriel go rigid beside him.

“Cassie, that’s-”

“Michael.”  Gabe jumped off his horse and ran, like the brothers had done moments before, to see his brother.

“Is he alright?” Gabe asked frantically.  “Is he alive?”

“He’s alive, Gabe calm down,” Sam held a hand flat to Gabe’s chest and gently pushed him away, back towards the horses.  “Cas, you wanna grab another blanket?  Charlie, food?”  Cas whipped the blanket off his shoulders, bunched it up, and threw it at Gabe.  Charlie got some easy-to-chew bacon from the saddlebag on Gabriel’s horse and rushed over to the crowd.  Castiel sat on his horse in shock.  His brother was right there.  The man he’d lived in fear of for almost his entire life was right there, bleeding and almost dead.  For all his brother and sister’s talk of Michael and Lucifer dying in the Between Woods, Castiel had never really considered it actually happening.  He figured they’d just stumble upon Michael sitting on a log, enjoying a piece of bread and a sip of wine.  Ignorant.  Castiel had been ignorant again.

“Come on, let’s get into the cave.  It won’t do anything to stay out in the cold like this.”

“I thought we were gonna get to Rufus’s before night fall?” Dean questioned.

“Not if we have to patch him up,” Sam gestured to the man still draped over his arm.  They dragged Michael to the back of the waterfall, and Charlie and Gabe grabbed the reins of the other horses.  Castiel prodded his horse forward toward the entrance to the fairy caves.  The logistics were a little off, since there were five horses and six humans and definitely not enough room.  Charlie took the horses, two by two, deeper into the cave, and gave them some sugar from the prince’s bags.  When she returned, they had Michael laid out on his stomach, Sam and Dean working on the man’s back, Gabe pacing frantically back and forth, and Castiel looking like a statue.

“Come on, man,” Dean grunted as he lightly slapped the oldest prince’s face.  “Wake up, come on!”  The injured man snuffled and jolted at Dean’s touch.

“Where am I?”

“You’re safe, Your Majesty,” Sam replied.

“Michael, you’re gonna be okay,” Gabriel pushed through to see his brother.

“Gabe?  What are you doing here?  Where am I?”  He seemed to want to stand, pushing up from the ground, the blankets slipping off his lower back, but Dean pushed him towards the floor.

“You’re just as stubborn as your brother.  You need to rest,” Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean as the words fell out of the hunter’s mouth.  “Looks like you got into a pretty nasty fight.  You wanna tell us what you remember?”

“Don’t touch me, you filth-” Michael stopped mid-sentence when he saw Dean’s face.  The hunter grabbed the prince’s arm and gently resettled him on the cave ground.

“These are the Winchester brothers, Michael.  They’re helping us find you and Lucifer.  Now tell us what the hell happened to you!” Gabe was practically yelled, his brassy voice echoing into the depths of the cave.

“Wolves, I think,” Michael forced his words out between his teeth.  Sam brought a cup of water to his mouth.  “I was getting water from the falls and they ambushed me.  They were strange, I could have sworn they were talking to each other.  I was sure I was dead…”

“Werewolves,” Sam nodded at the prince.  “They didn’t kill you because they’re more interested in getting to the other side of the woods before the cold sets in.  You got lucky.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I was lucky,” Michael hissed, his eyes narrowed at Sam.  The young hunter’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

“Damn it Michael, they are trying to help us!” Gabriel shouted.  “Now you heal yourself and tell me exactly what you were thinking when you took off without a word!”  Sam had to hold the honey-haired prince away from both of their older brothers on the ground.

“I told you not to come after me,” Michael’s voice was lower than it should have been.  A dark fire burned in his eyes.

“Can you heal yourself?” Dean asked quietly.  Michael seemed to relax a little as they made eye contact.

“Yes, but I don’t think I’ll have enough energy.  It could destroy me.  You will help me.”

“I don’t have any magic,” Dean said slowly.

“Yes you do, I can see your halo.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked.  “Dean isn’t a castor, never has been.”  Michael looked between the brothers as best he could on his stomach.  Gabriel grumbled something before stepping towards Michael.

“I’ll do it you stupid, stupid son of a bitch.”

“Don’t you talk about our mother that way, Gabriel.  It’s unbecoming,” Michael had a dangerous look about him again.

“Oh shut up, you big baby.”  Gabriel grabbed his arm.  There was a flash of light and Michael was unconscious beneath his brother.  “So stupid.”

“The hell was he talking about?  Halo?  I don’t have a halo,” Dean griped.  His voice was inquisitive and his gaze flew over the princes and thief queen.  “I don’t have a halo.”

“You didn’t tell him?” Gabe shot another accusatory glance toward Castiel.

“What was I supposed to say?  ‘Sorry, part of my grace is in you now; hope that doesn’t bother you?’”

“What?” Sam bellowed.  “ _What_?”

“Cassie here didn’t just leave that scar, Dean,” Gabriel said for his shrinking little brother, “Nope, he gave you a little of his grace too.  No clue how he did it, or how it’ll affect you two, or what it even means, but what the hell!  You didn’t need to know!”

“Cas?” Dean said, his green eyes wide and afraid.  Castiel shifted uncertainly from foot to foot.  He tugged at the hem of his tunic.  “Oh my God, you did!”

“I didn’t even know until Anael told me, Dean.  I don’t know anything about magic!  What was I supposed to tell you?”

“Guys!” Charlie yelled above all of them.  “Bigger problems?”

“Michael,” Gabriel groaned, looking at his brother’s passed out form under the blankets.

“He looks fine,” said Sam.  Both he and Gabriel ran a hand over the heir’s back checking for scars.


	21. Grace and Fire Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple-looking cat returned his gaze. Its ears and tail and legs flamed in and out of place, its eyes made of two blue flames. It blinked once and then collapsed back into the chaotic burn of the campfire.

“So you wanna explain this whole grace thing to me now?”

Charlie, Sam, and Prince Michael slept soundly on the other side of the fire.  Dinner had been tense with everything that had happened.  Charlie had tried to lighten the tension with bad jokes and good food, but the tendrils of distrust and caution between the princes and hunters could not be snapped so easily.  The flames cast dark black shadows and sunny yellow light throughout the cave.  It could be unnerving for Dean, every little shift in the light catching his finely-tuned attention.  But right now he was focused on the two princes sitting to his left.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to explain,” Castiel mumbled.

“Well, when Castiel’s grace busted out of his body, a piece got stuck to you, and now you have some of his magical ability swirling around in you,” Gabriel elaborated uncouthly.

“Ew,” was all Dean could muster for a moment.  “But why?  Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I-I didn’t think it was as important as finding Michael at the time.  And it’s not as though we can do anything about it.  Anael didn’t even know it was possible to seal grace into another human.”  Dean rested his elbow on his knee and rubbed his forehead.

“So I’m some sort of freak experiment now?”

“That’s an accurate description, yes.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel hissed.

“What?  You can’t say you’re not curious.  I’d actually like to see what happens between you two…”  Gabriel stood and faced them.  “Here, now where’s the handprint Ana was telling me about?”  Dean lifted his shirt sleeve and pulled it up over his shoulder.  Castiel felt a strange surge of pride well up in his throat.  It was sickening, actually.  He knew that, if anything, he should be feeling regret or discomfort at the thought of marking his friend like that.  Gabriel reached out and touched the mark.  Nothing happened.

“Alright then, Cassie?” his brother motioned to the mark and Cas held out his hand, ignoring the way it shook.  It fit to the mark like he knew it would, and that strange warmth enveloped him.  The way Dean’s eyelids fluttered shut told Cas he probably felt it too.  At first, the feeling spread down his arm and into his chest, but soon it was difficult to feel exactly where the warmth was.  It had enveloped them both and existed both within and outside of them.  They finally made eye contact, and Castiel almost had to gasp.  Dean’s eyes were glowing white like his brothers’ and sister’s did when they cast complicated powerful spells.

“Let go, Cas!  Let go!” Gabe’s voice sounded far away and too small.  Castiel wanted to ignore his brother, and the way Dean was leaning into his hand meant he didn’t _have_ to listen.  It all ended when Gabe tore his hand away from Dean’s arm.

“The hell was that?”  Cas’s ears were ringing and he felt hunger in his head.  Gabe, still holding his wrist examined his little brother’s arm.  “What happened?  What did you feel?”

“Warm?” was all Cas could bring himself to say.  How could he even describe what he’d felt?  How could he possibly put such a divine, complete feeling into words?

“Yeah,” agreed Dean.  “It was warm.”  Cas’s brother dropped his arm at the response.

“You two are poets,” Gabe deadpanned, rolling his eyes, “That was strange, even by my standards.  Both of you were totally out of it.”  He looked pensive for a moment before turning back to them.  “I wonder…”  He took Cas’s arm again and placed it so it hovered just above the mark.

“What are you doing?” Dean grunted.

“Well, when witches have familiars, they can share thoughts by sharing their soul with their familiar and vice versa.  I’m wondering if you two are the same.”  He tried to put Castiel’s hand closer to the mark without having it touch.

“Oh so I’m some animal now?  A royal helper?”

“Obviously not,” Gabriel glanced up from his work, “Familiars and their witches form an immediate connection after they share souls.  You and Cassie can’t share thoughts can you?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” answered Castiel.  Gabe sighed.

“Well, it looks like you actually need to touch to activate whatever the hell happened before.  This time, try and open to each other.”

“What?  No!  I don’t want to be some prince’s familiar!  I didn’t want Cas’s grace in me, and I don’t want whatever freaky magic thing you’re trying to force on me now!”

“I have to agree with Dean.  We don’t know what will happen if I try to use my magic.  I refuse.”  With that, Castiel pulled his arm out of his brother’s grip.

“Ah, Come on Cassie!  What’s the worst that could happen?” Castiel glared at his brother’s sheepish grin.

“I’m going to sleep.  Wake me when it’s my watch.”  Then he stood and disappeared further into the caves.   When he returned, he had a few armfuls of blankets.  He laid them out next to where Charlie lightly snored.

“What’re our plans for tomorrow?” Gabe asked.

“I think we’re supposed to stop at Rufus’s house to restock, and then straight shot it to Dema.”

“How long will that take?”

“A day?  Two?  It’s hard to tell.  We might get attacked by something, and there’s the Dema way layers to be wary of.”  Gabriel groaned at Dean’s predictions.  Castiel shushed him from his sorry attempt at a bed.  “Go to bed, Gabe.  It’s gonna be a long journey, and you’re gonna need to be well-rested.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Gabe sighed as he went to the horses further in the caves to get some more blankets.  Soon he was snoring next to Castiel, leaving Dean alone in the cave, humming to himself.

Castiel tried to pretend to be asleep, and he assumed it was working, since Dean felt comfortable enough to begin singing softly to the flickering shadows of the fairy cave.  The melody was sweet and Castiel felt like he’d heard it once a very long time ago.  It was comforting and made his eyelids heavier the longer he listened.  He chanced a look up over his shoulder at the hunter.  Dean’s back was to the sleeping crowd.  He almost wanted to ask what the song was, but when he put his head back on his make-shift pillow, he couldn’t help but drift off.  Regardless of Gabriel’s obnoxious snoring.

~

When Sam woke, he nearly jumped out of his bed.  He had slept much too long, and he was supposed to take over watch for Castiel.  But when he finally got his bearings about him, the only one left sleeping was the eldest prince.  In fact the cave was completely devoid of other life, save the horses stamping a little down the tunnel.  The hunter looked around, rubbing his upper arms in the cold.  It seemed no one had tended the fire, as it sat smoldering quietly in its pit.  Sam perked up as steps approached, fiddling for the knife sheathed at his ankle.  He and Dean both had one; they almost never removed them.

By the time he’d removed the blade, Cas stood in front of him, an armful of logs between them.  Sam sighed out all the tension in his arms.  Castiel looked unphased by the knife in his friend’s hand.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that Cas.”

“I wasn’t aware I was sneaking.”  He dropped the logs on the fire pit and began striking two flint stones together to rekindle the flames.

“Wow, you’ve gotten good at that,” Sam said pointing to the drifting wisps of smoke.

“Thank you.  My tutors always said I was a quick learner.”  Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“So where is everyone?”

“Dean is outside with Charlie and Gabe.  I believe he is trying to teach them about defense against werewolves.”  Sam nodded and sat himself down on the ground near the growing flames.

“Why didn’t you wake me up last night?  For my watch?”

“I wasn’t tired.  I figured it would have been redundant to have two people awake at the same time.”

“You shouldn’t do that.  Stay up so long I mean.  You need rest as much as anyone else.”

“I beg to differ.  I feel absolutely fine.”

“Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are.  I’m just saying out here, in the woods, it’s dangerous as hell to be tired.”

“I understand.  I’ll try harder in the future.”  Sam didn’t look convinced, with his eyebrows crinkled together and his pursed lips, but he let it go.  He pushed up off the ground and headed towards the faint sound of the waterfall.

“I’m going to check on the idiot brothers and the queen.”

Castiel nodded and just prodded the fire some more.  Once Sam was gone, he happened to glance over at Michael.  Rolling his shoulders, Castiel focused back on the fire.  He felt his jaw clench with effort as he tried to shape the flames with nothing more than his will. He’d seen Lucifer do it when they were both younger, and the explosive prince had been fascinated with flames.  Castiel took a steadying breath and tried again.  He focused on a specific edge of the small fire, envisioning the winding neck of a dragon curling out of the flames.  Nothing.  Maybe dragons were too complicated?  Did that even matter?

As he kept thinking, the memory of Lucifer using his dragon flame to scorch poor Bumble’s backside surfaced to his memory.  The cat hadn’t been able to sit for weeks, and Lucifer refused to heal the poor animal.  Castiel had cried to his tutor about Bumble, but his lessons were much too important to waste worrying about the stupid cat.  Castiel sighed and returned his attention to the fire.

A simple-looking cat returned his gaze.  Its ears and tail and legs flamed in and out of place, its eyes made of two blue flames.  It blinked once and then collapsed back into the chaotic burn of the campfire.  Castiel breathed again.  Had he done that?  It must have been him since Michael had not stirred and no one else was in the cave.  He tried again.  Letting his thoughts turn to cats, he envisioned the fiery feline once more.  This time he actually saw the smoke and fire turn into the animal.  At first it just sat and blinked again, but when, in his mind, he saw it walking about in a circle, it did just that in the pit before him.

Gabriel took that moment to come rushing in.  “Cassie, no!  Stop it!”  That lapse in attention to the cat caused its path to leave the fire pit.  Castiel jumped up from where he was sitting and willed it back into the pit, but by the time he’d understood what was happening, the cat had gone up in smoke.  The cold began creeping into the cave almost immediately.

“The hell is all the yelling for?” Dean appeared behind Gabriel, Charlie and Sam at his heels.

“I was just thinking!” Castiel said defensively.  “I didn’t know that would happen!”

“Just breathe, alright?  No one got hurt.”  Gabe plopped himself down on the ground next to where Castiel had been sitting earlier.  “We’re gonna have to get you to stop thinking so hard.”  Castiel gulped, a little unwilling to admit he was trying to practice.

“What happened?” Sam squeaked.

“Cassie was playing with fire.”

“I was just trying to see what would happen,” he hedged, “I didn’t know that would ha-”  The cave started spinning, the blood drained from his head, and he felt his knees going weak.  “I need to sit.”  Dean was helping down immediately.

“He’s probably gonna need to sleep after that.  Fire manipulation is hard,” Gabe sighed.  Sure enough, Castiel was already passed out on Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m not surprised he’s so tired,” Sam commented.  “He didn’t wake me up for my shift last night.”

“What?” Gabriel said whipping his head around.

“Well he said he wasn’t tired, but obviously…” Sam gestured to Castiel’s prone form leaning on his brother.  The younger hunter struck the flint a few times before coaxing the spark into a flame again over the heat charred wood.

“Has anyone seen him eat today?”

“What?”

“Eating?  Has he eaten today?”

“I didn’t see him eat this morning.”

“I didn’t either.”

“No.”

“Shit!”  Gabriel began pacing around the pit anxiously, wringing his hands.

“What?  What’s the matter Gabe?  Is he gonna be okay?” Dean asked in a frustrated tone.

“This is none of your business,” Gabe whipped towards him.  “This is for royalty only.”  His face softened and he wrung out the words, “We found Michael.  I need to call Ana.”  The he disappeared in the shadow of the cave.

“That was weird,” Charlie said quietly.

“Seriously,” agreed Dean.

~

“Ana,” Gabe choked out.  He had a small puddle of blood in his hand sloshing about itself.  “Ana, can you hear me? This is urgent.”

“Yes I can hear you Gabe.  What’s wrong?  Have you found Michael?”

“Yes, but that’s not really important,” he didn’t get to finish the thought as Ana cut him off with a shout.

“Not Important?!  Gabriel, the hell are you thinking?!”

“Listen!  Just hush and listen, would you?  We found Michael, he was attacked by werewolves, but he’s fine now.  Lucifer’s already in Dema.  He apparently has been conspiring with Crowley for a while.”

“What?”

“I want you to confirm that with one of the prophets.  Hell, see if Papa can verify it.  But that’s not really important right now.”

“What could be more important than treason and the heir in a coma?”

“Castiel.  I think you were right about-” Gabriel shifted, “About his condition.”  For a moment Ana was silent on the other end of the connection.

“You mean-”

“I think he’s a pure-blood.”

“What, why?  What happened you were laughing at me earlier!”

“He hasn’t eaten since yesterday, and he barely slept.  But he still had enough energy to work some fire magic.”

“Oh my God, is everyone okay?”

“We’re all fine.  I managed to catch him before he went too far, but Ana, I’m terrified.  You can’t tell Mama or Papa, you hear me?”

“Of course I hear you!  I would be an idiot to tell either of them!”

“Ana, what are we going to do with our little brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho! more secrets! Everyone loves being deceived, am I right? Hope this isn't too over the top or anything...


	22. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t need to worry about him. You need to eat.” Gabriel helped him up by grabbing under his arm pits and heaving. It took Michael a moment to get to his feet after laying around for a day and a half, but eventually, and with Gabriel’s help, he managed to sit near the fire. Silent, Gabriel went off to see how Castiel was faring with the horses and grab some food for Michael.

Castiel didn’t eat for the rest of the day.  Dean had been monitoring, only because Gabriel had seemed disturbed by his eating patterns.  Even when Sam gave him some greens and boiled potatoes, he only picked at them, setting them down and going to tend the horses.  Gabriel and Charlie split his leftovers, but not without concerned glances at each other first.

It was almost uncomfortable how quiet things in the cave were.  Aside from the crackling of the fire and the faint rush of water, there was nothing else to be heard.  Dean was starting to get antsy sitting there with three other somber travelers and an unconscious prince.  Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and stood.

“So when is Twinkle-Toes gonna wake up?”

“Michael?” Gabriel’s gaze shot up.  He stood as well and started towards his older brother.

“Yeah, it’s not like we exactly have time to wait around for him, you know?”

“Well I don’t know exactly what his status is, so it could be a while.”

“Is there any way we can just tie him on a saddle and ride towards Dema?”

“Actually,” Charlie piped up, “I’m a little nervous about this whole Dema thing.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now,” groused Dean.

“What? No!  I mean, it seems kind of silly to be taking both the heir and the heir’s heir into a kingdom that we’re certain wants them there for nefarious purposes.”

“She has a point,” Sam shrugged.

“I’d have to agree, except for the fact that Luci won’t listen to anyone but Michael.”

“That doesn’t mean Cas has to be here, though.  Or you, Gabe.”

“I’m not sure we’d be able to convince Cas to leave at this point,” he countered.

“And you?” Charlie pressed.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world!  Finally something interesting around here.”  He leaned over his brother on the ground and gave him a flick on the cheek.  Dean snorted and used his foot to tap the dark-haired man sleeping on the ground.

“Come on Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up.”  Michael shifted and groaned in discomfort.

“Careful, he’s delicate,” Gabe chuckled.  “C’mon Mike, we don’t have time for your drama.  We have to stop Lucifer.”

“Lu…cifer,” Michael mumbled.

“Yeah, our shit of a brother.  No get up.  Careful, don’t bend to far back.  Your muscles feeling good?”

“’M fine.”  Michael slid under the blankets like a cat, then say up on his knees slowly.  “Where am I?”

“The fairy caves.  Between Woods.  You got ambushed remember?”

“Yes.  I think I do.”  He turned and looked about the cave.  “I thought Castiel was here.”

“He is,” Dean said shortly.  He didn’t like the way Michael’s tone turned darker at his little brother’s mention.  When he dais it though, Michael’s attention finally alighted on the hunter.  Dean actually had to take a step back at the intensity of the gaze.  It was shocking how much Michael and Cas looked alike, actually, and yet how very different they appeared.

“And who are you?”  The prince’s eyes were the same shape and size as his friend’s, only differing in color, and Dean took another step back.  He didn’t like the way Michael looked at him.

“Winchesters,” Gabe answered for him.  Michael’s thin lips curved into a minute smile and he nodded at Dean.

“Thank you…for helping me and my brothers.”

“Yeah, of course.”  Dean gave a tight lipped smile and turned back to Charlie and Sam.

“This is Sam, Dean’s brother and-” Gabe stuttered when he remembered Charlie, “Ch-Charlene! A friend of theirs from the Bradbury family.”

“Hello,” Michael said formally.  Sam bowed and Charlie gave a small wave.  The prince turned back to Gabriel.  “Where is Castiel?”

“You don’t need to worry about him.  You need to eat.”  Gabriel helped him up by grabbing under his arm pits and heaving.  It took Michael a moment to get to his feet after laying around for a day and a half, but eventually, and with Gabriel’s help, he managed to sit near the fire.  Silent, Gabriel went off to see how Castiel was faring with the horses and grab some food for Michael. 

“Would you mind, Sir Winchester, if you might bring me a blanket or two?  I’m rather chilled.”

“Um, sure.  You can call me Dean,” the hunter said awkwardly.  When Dean reached down to hand the blankets to Michael, the prince accidently grabbed his hand instead.  Then he didn’t let go.  Smiling awkwardly down at him, Dean pulled away.  Charlie clicked her tongue and offered a much needed distraction.

“So Your Grace, we should probably catch you up on a few things.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Sam helped out, “Your brother it seems was planning this entire thing with Crowley.  Dema is preparing for war as we speak.”

“Lucifer wouldn’t do that.”

“What?”

“Whatever is happening, Lucifer is not involved.”

“Um, no disrespect,” Charlie butted in, “but my friend is a prophet, and he saw it.  Lucifer was in Dema before you even left Celeta.”

“It does not change the fact that Lucifer must be innocent.”

“Michael, as much as I appreciate your loyalty to your brother,” said Sam as he threw a glance at Dean, “And really, I do, you can’t simply ignore facts.”

“No.  Lucifer would not willingly engage in something that would harm the kingdom he was raised in.  I refuse to believe that.”

“Co-dependence,” Charlie muttered under her breath.

“Here, Michael,” Gabriel returned through the darkness.  He handed his brother the pouch of quail jerky and a bundle of leafy greens.

“Thank you Gabriel.”

“I’ll go tell Cas to saddle up the horses,” Dean said as he stood.

“Why don’t you have Sam do that.  I’d like to speak with you some more, Dean.”  Sam and Charlie noticed Dean’s jaw clench, but Sam stood regardless.

“Yeah, Dean.  I’ll help Cas.”  When he passed his brother, he leaned in and whispered, “Just be careful.  Don’t trust him.”

“I know Sammy.”  He sat between the two royal brothers and across from Charlie, although in retrospect, that was probably not his best idea.

~

“Cas, hey, Cas.”

“What is it Sam?”

The prince was mid-stroke, brushing Baby with a curry comb.  He had apparently made a small fire which the other horses had gathered around.  Ford and Charlie’s horse, Hermione, were laying wrapped around each other while the two nameless horses from the palace clopped softly in place.  Castiel seemed tranquil and his quiet nature calmed the horses.

“We need to get the horses ready to go.  Your brother is up.”  Castiel’s tranquility vanished as his back straightened and the blood drained from his face.

“O-of course.”  Castiel practically threw the comb in the saddle bag and ripped the folded blanket off the base of her neck.  “Then I’ll get them ready.”

“Let me help,” Sam stepped forward.  Castiel turned and gave the hunter an unreadable look.

“Please go back and keep a watch on my brother.”

“What?”

“There was,” Castiel paused and licked his lips anxiously, “There was something wrong with Michael’s halo.  I’m not sure what it was, but when he woke up something flared in his grace that I don’t recognize and I think it was aimed at Dean.  Please go and make sure he is not doing anything unsavory.”

At first, Castiel thought Sam would laugh in his face and pass off his presumption as ridiculous, or completely obscene, but instead Sam nodded and turned to go back.

“You believe me, just like that?”

“Of course I believe you, Cas.  You’re a friend.  Even if I didn’t, I noticed the same thing.  And I think I might know what it is.”  Sam stood still for a moment, biting his bottom lip before nodding again and giving a half-hearted smile.  “You just focus on saddling up the horses, okay?”

“Yes, as you say.”

~

When Sam returned, he almost collapsed into a fit of giggles.  Charlie was sprawled out on Gabe’s lap, the prince running his fingers through her hair.  That was kind of funny in itself, but what really got him was how close Michael had gotten to Dean, and the look of absolute horror on Dean’s face.  Michael had their shoulders pressed up against each other and was almost whispering into dean’s ear.  In the flickering light from the fire, Sam could just barely tell that his brother was blushing like a virgin.  As soon as the older hunter saw his little brother, he shot up.

“So how’s Cas?”

“What’s going on here?” Sam evaded.  Of course he was a little afraid of the way the Michael’s halo darkened as he glared at them, but this was just too good to pass up.

“Nothing, how’s Cas doing?”  Dean’s eyes were wide and pleading and Sam finally understands what he’s trying to do.

“Oh he seems fine, but he’s a little worried about you.  You might want to go check in with him.”

“Yeah, uh, If I have too.”

Sam had never seen his brother walk so quickly.  Gabe patted the ground next to him as a sign for Sam to sit, so the hunter did so.  Everyone was quiet for a moment before Gabe started talking about Charlie’s hair.

“It’s such a nice color.”

“Thank you!”

“How often do you bathe?  Do you use oil in it?”

“Yeah, every once in a while I, uh, buy some olive oil and comb it in before I wash it.”

“I’ve heard that works.  Never tried it though.”

“Oh you should!  It’s great!”

“What about you, Sam?  How do you keep your luscious locks so smooth and shiny?” Gabe teased.

“Huh?  Oh, nothing really.  I just bathe normally.”  Gabe’s jaw fell open and Charlie struggled to sit up from his lap.

“What?” they said in unison, both with the same amount of disbelief.

“Um-”

“Let me feel your hair!”  Charlie wobbled to her knees and crawled over to him.  She pulled the leather strap out and began playing with his hair.  “Oh my God!  Gabe you have to feel this!  It’s like unicorn fur!”

“What?! Let me feel!”  And then there were two royals combing his hair with their fingers.  He chuckled at the idea, but found himself swallowing it when he noticed Michael glaring down the tunnel in Dean and Cas’s direction.  When the prince felt Sam’s eyes on him, he turned his hard eyes toward him.  Sam felt his blood running cold; he snapped his attention to the fire in front of him.

“You can’t not use oil,” Charlie griped.  “It’s just not possible!  Are you feeling this?”

“Of course I’m feeling it!  You’re definitely lying,” Gabe told him.  “You’ve got to be using something.  Tell me, Werewolf blood? Demon spit? Come on!”

“I don’t do anything to it!  I wash it twice a week or so and then I just tie it back every morning.  That’s it.  I don’t even brush it.”  The queen and prince both yanked on their respective sections of his hair in jealousy.

“You’re shitting me!”

“No! I’m not!  Now please, can I have my head back?”

“No way.  I am braiding all of it, so you’re going to be stuck here for a while,” Charlie smiled.

“Oh, I’m definitely helping.  You’ll look so good with pigtail plaits!”

Another heavy silence fell across the fire as Gabe and Charlie pulled and twisted Sam’s hair and Michael either looked on with bored disdain or stabbed his gaze through the darkness of the cave.  Sam couldn’t help but wonder what Dean and Cas were up to himself, but he figured it something along the lines of getting the horses all ready.  He’d say it was taking an inordinate amount of time, but there were five horses to saddle, and Cas was still new at the whole thing.

“Your brother and mine seem to be close,” Michael noted softly.  If Sam heard right, there was a tinny undertone of anger, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“Yeah, actually, they are.”  Sam tried to give his best innocent smile.  “Dean doesn’t have very many friends, so we tend to worry about the ones we make.  Especially in our line of work.”  Michael nodded in agreement, but still didn’t seem convinced.  His halo flared out with a gray-green again, like it had when he’d first seen Dean, and then again when he’d woken up only thirty minutes ago.

“Still, I feel like I should warn you that Castiel will have nothing to offer your brother in the way of companionship.”

“I’m sorry?”  Sam couldn’t believe this.  Gabriel yanked on his hair in a nervous warning.  This was the most powerful man in the kingdom, after all.

“Once we retrieve Lucifer and return home, Castiel will become nothing more than a glorified bookkeeper.  He will not leave the castle, and he will not contact your brother.  You have nothing to gain from being friendly with Castiel.”

“We’re not friends with him to gain anything,” Sam tried desperately not to sound contrary, but he couldn’t help some of his incredulity leak through.  “We’re friends because we are.  We’ve been through some things, and he’s a good man.”  This time, both Charlie and Gabe pulled his hair.  He grunted out a curse and almost tried to rip his head from their hands.  Michael only sighed out a laugh.  Sam would have liked to stuff it back inside his smug face, but refrained.  He had self-control.

“I suppose we define friendship differently, then,” was all the prince said.  The patronization was dripping off it.  It was like he was explaining basic spell casting to a four- year-old.  It was flat out disrespectful, in Sam’s mind.  He only grit his teeth and smiled.

“I suppose so.”


	23. On to Dema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel saw that awful aura around Michael’s halo again. It was slimy and green, almost like Dean’s eyes, but less striking. It was creeping ivy where Dean’s eyes were blossoming arbutus. He shook his head. What on earth was he thinking? He passed a glance towards the hunter on the horse. Those awful eyes were watching him unabashedly.

Dean didn’t immediately go see Cas.  Once he couldn’t hear his brother and their guests chattering, he leaned against the walls and took a deep breath.  He was used to men staring at him, hell he usually invited that kind of attention; he was used to people being a little too close to him.  Cas in particular was one of those people, but with Michael, things were different.  Castiel had never tried to really command him to do anything.  They’d met under different circumstances, and only found out he was a prince halfway through the journey.  Castiel’s air was regal, obviously, but unobtrusive.  He was royalty and that was that, but Michael had a strange feeling about him.  Dean couldn’t see halos, but he could feel discomfort, and Michael’s presence made him so unnerved.  He managed to flout his regality simply by existing, making everything he said sound like a force of his will.

Dean ran a hand through his hair.  Pulling off his gloves and tucking them into his belt, he thought over Michael’s words once more.

“I’m going to have a kingdom, and I’m going to need someone to help me rule it.”

Dean wasn’t sure if the prince was implying what the hunter thought he was, but it was still an unpleasant thought.  He pushed off the cave wall and headed towards Cas and the horses.  He heard the snorting and snuffling before he saw the light from the fire.  Cas was talking softly to Baby it looked like, petting her nose softly.  Suddenly he looked up.  It was strange, since Dean hadn’t really made any noise or announced himself in anyway, but maybe it was Cas’s crazy magic senses or something.  Dean never really knew much about magic.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hey Cas.  How’s the saddling coming along?”

“Well enough except the actual saddle part.”  He narrowed his eyes at Dean and seemed to examine him up and down.  “Is everything alright, Dean?”

“What?”

“You seem distressed.  And Sam said Michael was awake.  What did he do?”

“Cas, relax, I’m fine.  He’s just a little more touchy-feely than I’m used to.”

“Michael is anything but “touchy-feely”,” Cas replied suspiciously.

“It doesn’t really matter.  I’m fine.”   His friend regarded him a moment more before nodding and patting Baby lightly on the nose again.  “You know I thought you might be exaggerating about Michael and Gabriel when you told us all those stories about them,” Dean chuckled.  He picked up the saddle for Charlie’s horse and got to work on that.  “If anything, I think your descriptions were deceptively understated.”

Castiel laughed.  It wasn’t a chuckle or a stifled giggle like Dean was used to hearing from him, but a honest-to-goodness laugh.  Dean could feel that stupid dorky grin he got on his face he only got when he was really happy, the dumb-looking, sideways smile that almost made his eyes close.  “I suppose you’re right,” Castiel finally smiled back.  He let out a long sigh and looked towards the cave ceiling.

“Here, let me show you how to saddle them right.  You did a pretty good job with the bridles and stuff.”

“Thank you.”

After Dean had demonstrated for him, Cas was pretty much set.  They said very little after that, too busy tightening belts and shifting leather to speak.  But Dean let Cas work with Baby, and in Cas’s mind, that was a sign of deep trust.  He felt so silly when his hands shook and he got nervous tumbles in his stomach.  All he was doing was putting a saddle on a horse!

“Alright,” Dean finally said with a hearty pat on Ford’s flank.  “I think we’re already to go.”

“Are we stopping at Old Knight Turner’s?”

“I think so.  We were hoping to get there this morning, but it’s been a strange day.”

“What time is it now?”

“Mid-afternoon, I think.  It gets confusing with no sun to tell you.”  Castiel nodded slowly.  “We want to get to Rufus’s by moon rise.  If we don’t, we might have to spend another night in the cave.”  All Castiel did in response was huff and groan.  He kicked dirt over the small fire that had kept him company for the last hour or so. “Yeah, that’s why we want to get to Rufus’s.  We figure three beds are still better than none.”

“I would have to agree.”

“Then let’s get everyone on a horse and get out of here, huh?”  Castiel could have almost sworn dean was flirting with him, but he pushed the feeling aside and followed after his friend.  It seemed longer than normal getting back to the others.  Dean began laughing loudly, and Cas tried to lean around Baby and Ford and Hermione to see what was so funny.

Apparently, Gabriel and Charlie had thought braided pigtails would suit Sam, because there they sat, each with a short tail-end in hand playing as if Sam were a horse and they were whipping his reins.  Sam only gave a good-natured huff, and Michael seemed much more interested in Dean’s return than the spectacle on the other side of the fire.  Castiel couldn’t help but smile seeing the Winchesters and his own brother so happy and carefree when they were normally so focused.

“It seems we only have five horses,” Michael said slyly.

“Oh, yeah.  You’re right.  Well let’s see..,”

“Michael shouldn’t ride alone,” Gabriel spoke up even as he inspected his side of the pigtails for any breaks.

“What do you mean by that?” the other prince glared hotly at his brother.

“Well, if you think I used my own grace to heal you up, you’re sorely mistaken.”  When everyone just looked at him, he heaved a dramatic breath and explained himself better.  “I wormed my way into your grace and used what little remained to heal you.  That’s why you were out for so long.  Gotta replenish your soul-stores.”

“But why does he need to ride with someone?”

“Well if Gabriel used my own grace as he says, then I’m probably not fully healed.  It would explain why I am feeling so drained.”

“Yeah, he’ll probably pass out a few times before the end of the day, and as funny as it would be, I think Luci and Ana would kill me if I let Mike get trampled.”  Michael shot Gabriel another dirty look, which Gabe ignored easily.

“Baby’s the only horse that can carry two people without tiring,” Sam said before he could stop himself.  If the look on Dean’s face was anything to go by, it was a complete mistake.  Michael nodded.

“And who will I be riding with?”

No one said anything for a still moment.  Dean coughed and just started mounting Baby.  Sam finally saved the conversation, “You’ll be riding with Dean.”  Castiel saw that awful aura around Michael’s halo again.  It was slimy and green, almost like Dean’s eyes, but less striking.  It was creeping ivy where Dean’s eyes were blossoming arbutus.  He shook his head.  What on earth was he thinking?  He passed a glance towards the hunter on the horse.  Those awful eyes were watching him unabashedly.

Michael stood slowly and made his way to the horses and mounted behind Dean.  The entire time, Dean’s eyes never left Castiel’s.  His jaw flexed when Michael put his hands unbidden on Dean’s hips.  Sam and Gabriel swung their legs over their saddles and Charlie gave Cas’s forearm a quick squeeze before she did the same.  Sam, Dean, and Michael were already heading towards where he’d tended the horses earlier when Castiel finally put the fire out and hauled all the remaining supplies back onto his horse.  Then he mounted and galloped after their party.

~

“Ah, Lucifer, my dear!” The King called from his ebony and gold throne.  Lucifer smiled wickedly up at this stupid man.  Crowley, the King of Dema was supposedly the most manipulative, sneaky man in existence, but Lucifer found his reputation to be over-inflated.  He was really just a chubby man whose brother had married into the right family.  Of course the uncertain circumstances regarding his brother’s death and his almost immediate marriage to Queen Eve made some people in the kingdom talk about Denmark to the north.  All Lucifer cared about was his reputation at bargaining.  According to his sources, once Crowley made a deal, he didn’t go back on it, and the deal he’d offered Lucifer years ago had finally proven too tempting to resist.  Especially considering the fiasco concerning Castiel and Michael.

“I think you know why I’m here,” he said quietly.  Crowley nodded with a smug smirk and a wave of his hand.  The servants all filed out of the darkly lit room.

“Let’s not beat around the bush then, Luci.  I want an heir that I can rely on, and you want power.  I take it the terms are still acceptable?”

“I marry Lilith in Michael’s place and I get Dema upon your resignation or death, correct?”

“Perfect!  This is why I’d rather have you than your brother.  I always knew you were the smartest one of the bunch, even when you were little.”  He heaved himself out of his throne and made his way down the blood red carpet towards the prince.  He clapped a heavily ringed hand on Lucifer’s shoulder.  “You know a good deal when you see one.  I respect that.  Let’s walk.”  He started guiding Lucifer towards a door near the rear of the hall.

“Of course, you’ll want to see Lilith.  She’s gotten quite attractive as of late.  Not that chubby-cheeked knock-kneed girl you remember.”

“I’m sure she’s beautiful, but I think I’d rather see the palace.  More telling of what I’ll be getting, don’t you think?”

“Right you are.  See what I mean?  Clever.  So much more clever than your brothers.”  Lucifer could only preen and smirk under the praise.  They did as he’d asked too, visiting the kitchens, the aviary, the library, and many other number of halls.  It was almost time for mid-day meal when they bumped into another person.

“Oh look, it’s the whore!” Crowley sang.

“Oh look, it’s the fat pig who killed my father.”

“Megara, my dear, that’s no way to speak to your king!”

“Hello Lucifer.  If that is who you are,” Meg said, completely ignoring her step-father.  Lucifer took her in silently.  She had lost a lot of her baby-fat, but a little stuck to her cheeks.  Her short blonde hair had grown in long and dark, curling over her shoulders.  The only things that hadn’t changed it seemed, were her general disdain for everything around her, the long drawling way in which she spoke, and her deep dark blue eyes.  Lucifer remembered examining her the last time he’d visited; he had to make sure he was getting the best out of Dema’s pool of spouses.  He’d decided that his father’s choice in Alastair had been acceptable.  Let Michael, Gabriel, and Castiel have the leftovers.  He didn’t care so much about that now.  He had a kingdom waiting for him, his spouse didn’t matter.  If it had to be Lilith, so be it.  It could have been Eve herself, for all he cared.

“It is good to see you again, Meg.”

“I’m sure.  Has Castiel come with you?”  Of course Crowley wouldn’t have divulged any information about this visit to those in his family.  Covert arrangements must be covert, after all.

“Unfortunately, I am the only representative of Celeta at the moment.”  Lucifer couldn’t stop the sarcasm that lifted the corners of his mouth.

“A shame, yes,” she looked down at the floor.  “How is he?”

“As much as I’m sure Luci would like to tell you all about his baby brother, we have business to attend to, Whore.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, motherfucker.  I’m talking,” she growled at the king.  He looked at Lucifer with an incredulous grin as if to say “what can I do?”  Meg turned back to the prince.  “Is he well?”  She clutched her elbows and regarded him seriously, all dressed in his armor.  He personally hated the ceremonial wings attached to his back plate.

“He’s fine.  He had a run in with a hell hound in the Between Woods a while ago, but he made it back to the castle in one piece.”

“A h-hellhound?” Meg’s face went white as snow, and her large eyes grew wide. Her crossed arms tightened over her chest, the fine purple velvet wrinkling over her corseted breasts.

“See, dear?  All fine.  Now come, Lucifer.  We have a meal to discuss arrangements over.”  Lucifer couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder a few times as Crowley led him away.  Meg had her chin tucked into her chest, back against the door.  It almost looked like she was afraid and guilty at the same time.  Mortified, he decided.  He liked the way she looked all frightened.  Had he had time for such things, he might have even called her beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Hamlet reference for those who like Shakespeare yay Mr. bard


	24. Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation was fire in his cheeks and rolling off his words. He wanted to bottle that feeling and force Dean to drink it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the rating is finally going up! This is the first time I've actually finished a smutty-sort thing and posted it, so I apologize in advanced. If you're not down with going down, I'd suggest skipping to about halfway through the chapter. Anyway, enjoy your gays.

The thoughts were fuzzy at first.  Images of hands and calves and ribs flickered like flames casting deep shadows across the ridges in his mind.  The next flashes of feeling and sight were sharper, just barely more coherent.  A muscular torso, male obviously, flexing and rolling around him.  His vision got clearer the more he focused on the slip of skin beneath him.  There’s suddenly a face to put to the limbs.

Dean’s hands moved over Cas’s arms.  Neither knew when they’d gotten undressed, or even in this highly compromising position, but that seemed slightly irrelevant at the moment.  The hunter couldn’t help but smile at Cas’s soft looking white stomach.  Obviously, Gabriel wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the perks of royal desserts.  Cas leaned up, trying to take Dean’s lips in his own, but Dean just ducked and laughed.  Groaning, Castiel arched into the touch Dean graced him with, lips passing over his pulse and drifting towards his collarbones.  Cas gasped out the other man’s name when his calloused hands came up to his chest and played over his nipples.  Dean became enraptured with the prince’s ear, huffing shivering breaths over Cas’s softly burning skin.

“I don’t think we can do this,” sighed Dean.  The prince shuddered beneath him.  Fumbling with Dean’s biceps, Cas let his hands slide over the tan and sweaty skin on Dean’s arms and back.

“Why’s that?” Cas questioned.  He struggled to punch out the words through his ragged breaths.  “I’m a prince, I can do whatever I God damned please.”  Dean chuckled and rubbed his nose over the crook of Cas’s shoulder.  Cas’s grip tightened on his friend’s back.  He wanted to be closer, so much closer than they were.

“You raise a very valid point,” Dean responded quietly.  He didn’t know where his legs were, nor did he know how he’d managed to suddenly revisit Cas’s collarbone.  All he knew was that this was one hell of a dream.

It had to be a dream, because given context, this could _not_ happen in real life.  Not with the way Michael was figuratively breathing down his neck, or since he was sure they’d all set up camp together, all six of them.  As if to prove him wrong, Cas full out moaned underneath him, threading his fingers through Dean’s short hair trying to pull the hunter closer.  He cried out when Dean nipped and sucked a bruise to the front of his shoulder.  They both shivered into each other.  Dean figured he should probably stop teasing Cas, since he wouldn’t last much longer being the prudish virgin he is.  The thought makes Dean laugh again.  Only in his imagination would Cas be so unhinged and sexual.  He stuttered when Cas’s hand passed over his cheekbone.  Glancing up at the prince’s eyes, Dean felt his stomach flip over on itself.

“What are you laughing about?”  This was ridiculous, Dean never got nervous about sex.  At least not since his first time.  But the way Cas was looking at him…?  He didn’t know what to make of it.

“Nothing,” Dean ducked his head again; he could feel the blood rushing through his ears.  “Just this is pretty awesome.”  He passed a glance up through his eyelashes and Cas’s breath caught at the sight.  He wanted the hunter closer again.  He wanted to be so close no one would never be able to mistake that they belonged to each other.

Dean went back to pulling and pushing those noises out of Castiel again, nuzzling down the prince’s tummy, nipping at the small trail of course dark hairs.  Cas panted and pleaded in fleeting breaths to the open air.  Dean loved how responsive his friend was and slid his hands down the prince’s white thighs.  The only sensations that mattered were the ones that fed the weight growing between Dean’s own thighs.  He was just about to close his eyes and take Cas when he practically jumped out of his pile of blankets.

“Oh, hello Dean.”  That voice.  That God damned voice.  The one that had been begging him not to stop only three seconds ago.  Dean felt his cock twitch at the thought, but now was not the best time to think with his morning wood.  Cas had his back turned to those sleeping, but his head was lifted over his shoulder so he could stare at Dean.  The hunter shifted under his gaze.  After all, it was only a matter of time before the prince noticed the lump under the blankets.  He flipped his body over.

“Did you even sleep?” he asked Cas.  They hadn’t quite made their goal, in terms of distance yesterday.  When they’d reached the end of the tunnel, the forest was dark and silent, save a few chirping crickets.  Their party decided to set up a small camp in the cave, and continue towards Rufus’s tomorrow in the early morning.  Then they’d take turns napping in the beds until the sun reached the middle of the sky, and start the trek to Dema after.  That meant that they’d reach Dema not tomorrow, but the next day.  Castiel had volunteered for the first watch, and considering he was still in the exact same spot, he hadn’t bothered switching off with anyone.

“I was not tired.  I haven’t felt fatigued since the incident with the fire, in fact.”

“Oh,” was all Dean could manage.

“You should go back to sleep, Dean.  You’ll need your rest.”  Dean let out a half-hearted laugh and carefully maneuvered around the weight between his bowed legs. 

“I will.  First I got to take a piss, though.”  He made sure the bulge in his knickers stayed hidden as Cas handed him a simply made torch.  Dean let out a long sigh when he finally felt safe and out of dodge.  Little did he know, Castiel did much the same, pushing his breath out between his teeth in front of the fire.

While everyone seemed to think Castiel was completely ignorant of sexual attraction or acts, he was quite the opposite.  He knew just as much as some of the dirtiest prostitutes, he’d just never found himself with the desire to act on his knowledge.  It was much like battle and strategy to him.  He knew it inside and out, but putting it into practice was unnerving and complicated.  He felt no need to use the knowledge he’d accidently discovered in his mother’s private library of erotic literary commissions.

A nagging thought resting at the front of his mind told him that Dean knew.  Castiel wasn’t used to having such strong, conscious, sexual thoughts.  Perhaps he had done something to tell Dean he’d fantasized about him.  And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he never fantasized about anyone like that.  He shifted his hips uncomfortably and gazed into the fire.  He had to admit, even with his knowledge, he was rather surprised by his mind.  As he sat comparing what he’d learned in those raunchy volumes with his own fluttering thoughts, he had to snort at the absurdity.  There was no way anything like that could happen between them, he thought.  Even if it had seemed real, it was all a highly elaborate day-dream.

Dean was jittery as he walked into the silent woods.  In stark contrast to the stillness of the woods, his mind reeled and tumbled thought over thought.  Anticipation coiled in his gut.  The images flashing under his eyelids did not help the discomfort in his dick.  He almost walked into a tree as he passed a clammy hand over his face.  He hadn’t been lying when he said he needed to relieve himself, but if his unflagging erection was anything to go by, that wasn’t all he’d be doing.

Of course there was some guilt squeezing in his stomach as he pulled his breeches down.  He knew what was about to happen.  Castiel was his good friend, and if he ever found out about this, that friendship would be in grave danger, but the danger of Cas seeing him in such a state was far greater at this point.  So with a quick, cutting thought, he dragged his hand along his shaft.  He swore it was the wind that made him shudder.

He could still see Cas’s eyes, looking down at him.  They were so different in his dream, but also the same.  It was so hard for him to put into words or thoughts, so he stopped trying by the third or fourth stroke.  He couldn’t help but pick up the pace when he thought about where the dream had left off.  What would have happened if he’d kept dreaming?  Obviously, he would have swallowed Cas down and sucked until Cas came, but what about after that?  Dean wasn’t certain how much about that kind of thing Cas knew, but when he pictured the prince hooking his arms under his knees and pulling them up towards his sides, Dean almost lost his focus.  It was starting to get pathetic how weak in the knees he felt.

He could hear the blood pumping in his ears and feel the vein throbbing in his throat.  Throat.  He’d cover Cas’s throat in so many bruises and scrapes and then he’d bite marks into his shoulders Cas would learn a little from Dean and he’d bite back or maybe they’d just kiss and stare at each other for a really long time that was just fine with him too because Cas smelled good like roses and sugar and cedar wood and really if there was no sex he guessed that would be alright too he just wanted Cas around…

And with that thought, he seized so hard he actually had to hold onto the tree to stay steady.  He swallowed thickly as he processed the information again.

“Shit,” was the only word he could think to say.

When Dean came back into the cave, there was something different about him.  Cas could see his soul, and, as always, it burnt bright and swirling green.  Rays of gold light shone out of it, along with a fade of deep shimmering blue.  It was like seeing halos, only different somehow.  He could tell right away that Dean was not a castor, only a beautiful example of humanity.  But there was something different.  He didn’t know if it was the saturation of light, or perhaps there was a new, less vibrant color threading around the aura, but it made Castiel uneasy.

“Are you alright, Dean?  You seem disturbed.”   Dean laughed and fidgeted with his fingernails.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Cas.  I’m just a little stressed about being in the woods alone.”

“I could have come with you.”  Cas regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, and he expects an awkward silence or some sort of dismissal.  Instead, Dean laughed again.

“Oh no, as much as I enjoy your company, pee time is me time.”  Cas felt whatever was wrong in Dean’s soul lift.  Dean sat a little ways across from him, reaching his white cold hands over the fire.

“You really ought to sleep Dean.”

“I could say the same to you, Princess,” Dean winked.  Castiel could feel the blood rushing to his face at the nick-name.

“I thought I’d outgrown that,” he grumbled.  Dean just smiled wider.

“No one outgrows their nick-name.  Just ask Sammy.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”  Dean gave a soft nod to match his fading smile.  He gazed blankly at the fire for a moment, then at Cas.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, uh,” Dean swallowed and grinned awkwardly, “I mean, you asked if I was alright, but really, you’re the one we should be concerned about.  Are you feeling any different?  Besides the whole not eating or sleeping thing?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Oh.  That’s…good, I guess.”  He glanced back at the fire.  “It just kind of freaks me out, you know?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Right.  Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Explain, then.  What is it?”

Dean dragged a hand across his chin, thumbing at the short bristles of his incoming beard.  “I’m…uncomfortable.”

“About what?”

“Magic.”  Castiel stared calmly at him, like there was nothing wrong with being afraid of casting.  It made him even more nervous, so he started rambling.  “I mean, the only people I know who come by magic honestly are Pam and Missouri, and they’re both pretty good, but they only do simple stuff.  Calls, boiling water, giving kids’ their prophecies.  Nothing too big.  But you and Gabe and Michael, hell even Charlie!  You’re all so much more involved!  It kind of scares me.”

“What about Sam?”

“What?”

“You said that Missouri and Pam were the only ones you knew who ‘come by magic honestly.’  What about Sam?”  Castiel didn’t like the way Dean started picking at his nails again.  He clenched his jaw and swallowed uneasily.

“Sam’s different.”

“But how?”  The hunter shuddered and sighed in resignation.

“It was a demon.  Ruby.  I should have known what was going on, but I missed the signs.  Hell, I was only fifteen when it happened, but I wasn’t paying attention, and now he’s like this.”

“Demons?  What on earth are you talking about?”

“Demons, sometimes, when they smoke out of their host, as in they leave the body either through exorcism or choice, they’ll leave traces of themselves in that host’s body.  Sometimes those traces manifest as magical ability.  That’s what happened to Sam.  He was sweet on this girl in town named Ruby, turns out she was a demon.  Tricked him into getting too close, and she took over for him.”

“That’s terrible.  What happened?”

“Sammy got into a lot of trouble.  Almost killed one of Pa’s hunting friends.  Stole thirty-three kegs of liquor from the market place before he got caught.  Dad was right pissed too,” Dean recalled with a humorless laugh.  He shook his head.  “Took hours to track him down.”

A fog settled on them.  Dean’s light grew fainter and less colorful, as if remembering caused him to close himself off.  Castiel could see in his posture, the way he held his shoulders and the way his knees were tighter than if they’d been bound with rope.  If he’d been able to send the sorrow he felt for his friend across the space to the other man, he’d do it right then, with no hesitation.  It was obvious the way Dean spoke that his father had not been particularly kind about the matter.   The hunter let out a long, labored sigh

“So yeah, I’m afraid.  I don’t like magic.  It’s unreliable and sometimes it goes wrong.  Really, really wrong.  I’ve paid enough for magic.  I don’t want that to happen again.”  He laughed stalely again.  “Man, I can’t even ask if you’re okay without turning the conversation back to myself.  Probably think I’m some sap of a hunter now, don’t you?”

Cas couldn’t help it.  He reached out and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder.  His friend jumped at the sudden touch, but didn’t pull away like Cas thought he might.

“Dean Winchester, you should not speak of yourself like that.  You are worth much more than you give credit for.”  Dean only huffed and shook his head.

“I appreciate the sentiment Cas, but I have a feeling you’ve got yourself a skewed opinion of humanity.”

That made Castiel angry.  He didn’t understand how this man, with such a pretty soul and kind eyes could possibly say such things about himself.  It made it difficult for Cas to keep his tongue.  The conversation was fire in his cheeks and rolling off his words.  He squeezed Dean’s shoulder a little tighter.  He wished there was a way for him to enlighten Dean.  He could practically feel the heat wafting from his cheeks.  Dean had done so much to help him personally, with no promise of gain, and still wanted to help more.  He wanted to bottle that feeling and force Dean to drink it down.

For Dean, the exchange was much different.  It felt like floating, and then crashing down into the past.  It felt nice, he decided, to tell someone about the terror that had taken him for the seven days it had taken to track Sam down.  His breath came a little easier when he remembered, the yolk was shared.  But with Cas’s grip on his shoulder, he felt like the past was rushing over his ears.  He saw the time where he and Cas first met, the bloody prince giving a fake name and collapsing, then glaring out from the bed where he was forced to stay.  Then the hell hound, the baths, everything rushed over his eyes, throwing him all over.

“My opinion of you will not change, regardless of your own opinions.  I still hold to the fact that you are one of the most incredible humans I have ever met.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree then.”  Cas wanted to smack him for how quickly the reply came.

“I suppose we will.”  Then he took his hand off the hunter’s shoulder and returned to glaring at the fire as though only the force behind his stare would keep it in the pit.  The echoing buzz of his memories began to fade, so Dean let out a long exhale.  “You should sleep, Dean.  We still have a long journey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you feel the need to label everyone's sexuality at this point: I'd say that Cas is some sort of variation of asexual, be it demi or gray, I'm not really sure; he's probably biromantic if you're getting technical. Dean is more pansexual than bi, but either one works if you ask me. Sam is mostly straight, Gabe is mostly gay, Michael and Lucifer are bi, and Charlie and Gilda are full-on lesbians because everything needs more lesbians it's a scientific fact
> 
> Also, I just want to mention that everything so far has been unbeta'd soooo if anyone's got suggestions???


	25. Bruised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought about blisters, a hand, and the unfading warmth beside him.

Just as they’d planned, Castiel woke the rest of the party up before the sun rose so they could make it to Turner’s ramshackle hutch.  It was just as sparse as Castiel remembered, with its dusty floors and empty clutter.  The floorboards creaked under the weight of all six of them huddled at the doorway.  Dean and Sam had made sure to check the perimeters more thoroughly than last time, but there was still an air of discomfort hanging around the house.  Charlie was the first one to actually push into the front room.

“This place reeks,” she complained.

“That’d probably be the hellhound.”  Dean glared at his little brother.  “Someone was supposed to put it six feet under, but I guess it wasn’t that important.”  Sam shrugged.

“The hole was almost as deep as I am tall, so I figured it was fine.”

“Whatever, it’s nothing I’m not used too.”  She flopped herself on the flat, hard couch, seemingly unaware of the cloud of dust that flew into the air.  Gabe sneezed violently and Michael pinched his nose.

“This is disgusting!” the oldest prince declared.  “There is dust everywhere!  Does no one clean this place?”

“Welcome to the Between Woods!” said Dean.  He gave Michael is sly pat on the shoulder and hauled a few blankets in.  “Alright, we got three beds, so I figure we can either double up, or half of us can sleep and half can keep watch or take a bath or something.”

“I’m not opposed to taking a bath,” Gabe volunteered.  “It’s been a few days, and I think I have Between Dirt between places it shouldn’t be, if you know what I mean.”  Everyone else practically gagged at his cheeky grin and disregard for their comfort.

“Okay, Gabe is taking a bath, great.  Anyone else?”

“I’ll take one,” Castiel mumbled.

“I should probably wash my hair,” sighed Charlie from the couch.

“So basically everyone is bathing then?  I think you’re all missing the point of this pit stop.”

“Dean, it’s fine.  Everyone will take a quick bath, and then we’ll double up for beds.”

“I claim Sammy-Boy!” Gabe called.

“What?  No, that doesn’t make sense.  Dean and I would share a bed, and you and Michael, and then Charlie would get a bed to herself.”

“Hey, I can handle myself if one of you big men needs a place to sleep,” Charlie rolled her eyes.  “Honestly, don’t treat me special like that, or you’ll make me expect things of you.”

“I refuse to sleep in the same bed with Gabriel.  He is insufferable and-”

Dean sighed a heavy breath and, looking at Cas, jerked his head back towards the door.  Cas nodded and followed his friend.  They stabled the horses and took the more important supplies like the canteens and perishable foods into the house kitchen.  The young prince helped Dean roll the old wooden and metal tub out from behind the stable.  Once they’d propped it up correctly, the open side to the sky, the bottom resting on the metal fire grate, Castiel fell back onto his bottom.

“Where’s the water?”

“Huh?”

“Where’s the water?  I’m assuming you have a way of getting water for the tub,” Cas deadpanned.

“Yeah, of course we do.  Just gimme a second.”  He yelled for Sam, who appeared out the back door only moments later.  They entered the house together, then remerged with two tin pails each.  “You wanna come with us Cas?”  Castiel nodded in response.  He pushed off the ground and followed them into the thicket surrounding Rufus’s home.

~

Michael flicked the curtain back into place, a frown marring his features.  He’d made sure to keep out of sight of the brothers, but he was afraid Castiel might sense his gaze.  He didn’t like the way Castiel’s halo shone so brightly.  In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d say it was brighter than his or Lucifer’s and that had to be impossible.  Castiel hadn’t even been able to make light!  He’d failed the first test his magic tutors gave him.  He didn’t like it at all.

“Hey, if you’re done being creepy, you wanna help putting all this away?” Gabe asked from the kitchen floor.  He was arranging the extra food they’d brought in the small cellar to the right of the whittle-work table.

“I’m concerned about Castiel.”

“We’re all concerned about Cassie.  But there’s not much we can do at the moment.”

“He and Dean seem close.”

“They are.”

“I’m not sure it’s safe for them to be so friendly.”

“Dean and Cassie are both big boys.  They can make their own decisions without your help,  Michael.  Now would you get over here and help?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Gabriel was almost shouting.  As smart as his family was, he had trouble believing  how dense they could be.

“Why don’t you have the village girl do it?  She would be much more suited to the task, in my opinion.”

“Charlie is busy making the beds, unless you want to sleep on a layer of dust, I suggest you get your butt down here and help.”  Michael gave an abused sigh and crouched next to his younger brother.

“Castiel could be dangerous,” he muttered quietly.

“I know that.  I plan on teaching him some basics tonight.  Control stuff,” Gabriel responded.

“This has never happened before, has it?”

“What?”

“Whatever he is,” Michael said disdainfully with a lazy roll of his wrist.  “I’ve never heard of someone’s ability showing so late.  It’s unusual.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Gabriel wracked his mind for a way to change the subject.  This was not a topic he wanted to get into with Michael, especially considering the vague threats he kept making towards their younger brother.  “Are there any preserves on the table?”

“No, there aren’t.  I think I shall look into the library’s section on magical-medical disorders upon our return home.  I wonder if perhaps there is something wrong with Castiel.

“Castiel is fine.  He just needs to learn to control whatever powers he has before someone gets hurt.  Same as any other castor.  Hand me that glass of milk.  No, sniff it first.”

“It’s fine.”

“Old Knight Turner was a genius, getting his cellar enchanted.  Wonder who he had do it.”

“Probably that old woman from the lower quarter.  What was her name again?  Montana? Mississippi?”

“Missouri, I think.  She’s a good woman.”

“Hmm.”  Michael went back to look out the window, sneezing at the dust swarm that flew out of the curtains.

~

“Enchanted pails.  Rather helpful,” Castiel smiled slightly.

“Yeah, hell if you think I’m gonna make more than one trip to the stream,” Dean grinned.  Sam handed his pail to his older brother.  With that last bucket, the tub was sufficiently full, and Sam began trying to spark the wood in the fire grate.  “So who’s going first, then?”

“My hair is disgusting, so if Cas doesn’t mind,” Sam asked as respectfully as he could.

“Take your time.”

“Thanks,” the hunter started unhooking the buckles on his leg armor.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean hopped off where he’d been sitting on the lip of the tub.  “Can you help me with this?”  Cas stuttered as Dean presented his back, pointing uncomfortably to the leather belts keeping his pauldron safely on his shoulder.  Dean couldn’t see how big Cas’s eyes had gotten, but Sam snorted when he threw a glance at them as he stripped off his belt and tunic.  “Cas?”

“Ah!  Yes, of course.”  His hands shook as he gripped the first belt and started unfeeding the buckle.  Dean’s soul flared a little and he chuckled.

“You okay, Princess?”

“Fine,” Cas gulped down.  “I’m not used to undressing others is all.”  Dean’s laugh turned into a splutter.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“I don’t know.  Was it humorous?”

“I’m laughing,” Sam grinned widely at them.  He had his trousers halfway down his legs, his knickers the only other article of clothing on him.

“Oh just get in the tub would you?  Fucking moose.”  Sam only laughed harder, his halo brightened a tad as he finished undressing and hopped in the tub.  It was Dean’s turn to laugh when his little brother screamed.

“It’s still cold!”  The water sloshed and flew out over the top and onto the frozen ground.  “God damn it!”

“Did I miss it?” Gabe threw the back door open and screamed.  “Did I miss Sam getting naked?”

“Yeah, you pervert.  Already in the tub.  Sorry,” Sam teased through his chattering teeth.

“Damn it Michael, I missed it!” he called back into the kitchen.  When Cas and Dean happened to glance at the kitchen window, the heir to the throne was glaring at the both of them.  Cas could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks as he lifted the shoulder protector off Dean’s arm.  Dean began fiddling with his scabbard and sword belt.  Cas was not surprised to see that Dean’s white shirt apparently had no left sleeve under the armor.  Instead, his heavy chainmail tunic glittered in its place.

“Phew,” Dean sighed.  He rolled his shoulders and smiled.  “Thanks Princess.”  Cas sat next to Gabe who was busily examining the fire.  Despite his numerous attempts, Cas couldn’t stop himself from peeking over his shoulder at Dean every few moments.  He was removing his green vest when their eyes met.  Castiel almost jumped out his skin, but Dean only smirked and winked playfully.

“Hey Cassie, you wanna test out your casting?”

“What?”

“Your casting,” Gabe pressed, “The fire’s stable at the moment, and I’m sure Sam would appreciate a warmer bath.”

“Oh.  Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’ll be here if anything goes wrong.”

“That’s comforting,” Sam grumbled.

“Don’t worry, babe.  I won’t let him turn you into Sammy Soup.”

“I’m not your babe, Gabe.”

“Soon though.”  Sam rolled his eyes.

“Only in your dreams.”  At his brother’s words, Dean had to stifle a laugh.  Cas nervously picked at his fingernails.

“Come on Cassie, let’s get you casting.  You obviously know how to start.  You just gotta picture what you want to happen and focus; will it into existence.”  Cas took a deep breath and stared at the fire.  “You want it to get more intense.  Hotter.  Come on.”

Cas closed his eyes and concentrated, like Gabe asked, but nothing seemed to happen.  He let out the breath he’d held and tried again.  And again.  And again.  “This is pointless.”

“How’d you do it the last time?” Dean asked, sitting next to his friend.  Cas wanted to lean into his friend’s side, the way he seemed to throw off warmth in the chilly air.

“I don’t know.  I was just thinking about the old palace cat, and it happened.”

“Then maybe instead of concentrating you need to relax?” Sam asked.  “I usually try and feel the magic flowing out of my fingertips for stuff like this.”

“Okay, try their way.  Just relax and think of hot things, I guess.”

“Like the sun?” Cas couldn’t help but asking.

“If that works,” his older brother shrugged.  So Cas tried thinking about the warmest things he could.  He pictured the sun on the clearest day in summer, beating down on him and Ana in the courtyard as they ate the strawberries they’d stolen from the garden.  He thought about the time he accidently grabbed a metal pot while the cook was away, crying to his nursemaid about the blistering marks on his hand.  Blisters.  He thought about blisters, a hand, and the unfading warmth beside him.

Dean.

“Whoa! There you go!” Gabe whistled.  Cas opened his eyes and was surprised to find the fire licking up the side of the grate, almost halfway up the side of the tub.  “Never would have guessed relaxing would be how you let the magic out.”

“What’d you think about?” Sam said.  Cas stuttered for a moment.

“The sun.” he finally managed.  It wasn’t a complete lie.

~

“You need help undressing, Cassie?”

“If you’d be so kind,” he said quietly.  Sam and Charlie and Gabe and all finished their baths, and Castiel had volunteered to go next.  He still hadn’t quite managed how to get in or out of his own clothes.  So his brother unbuckled the sides of his tunic and yanked the garment over his head roughly.  Before Gabe could do the same with his stiff undershirt, he undid the ribbon and brooch holding his collar closed.

“I trust you’ll give this back again,” he whispered to Dean.  Dean took the blue brooch with another grin and held it tightly with a nod.

“Come on, lover boy.  Stand up straight so I can get you out of these clothes.”  Suddenly he realized he was going to be naked very soon.  And in front of an audience no less.  He felt tongues of heat lighting up his ears.  But he let Gabriel continue.  “Wow, that’s quite the bruise you got there Cas.  What happened?”

“What?” Gabriel pointed to the front of his little brother’s shoulder, cocking a curious eyebrow.  Castiel looked down at it and immediately flicked his eyes to Dean.  The hunter was frozen in place, staring at the deep purple and brown mark in the shape of a bow.  When Dean’s eye met Cas’s, it was over.

They both knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Hahahaha! Ha I'm so sorry


	26. Gemstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is so late! I've been working pretty much all day trying to save up for a convention! Also, just as a little warning, chapters for the rest of "The Cage" section are hopefully gonna be a little longer (3,000+ words instead of 2,000+), but we'll see.

Michael got a bed to himself.  He had refused to sleep with Gabe, because apparently Gabe liked to spread out and hog blankets.  That didn’t stop the honeyed prince from insisting he sleep with Sam.  Sam rolled his eyes, but conceded to the arrangement.  Michael denied Charlie because it would “hardly be proper” for a prince to sleep with anyone of such breeding.  Charlie laughed in his face, and almost blurted out that she was a queen in her own right before a pointed look from Sam stopped her.  Cas didn’t need a bed, a fact that was still distressing to everyone except Michael, it seemed.  And although the oldest prince had been hinting that he wouldn’t mind sharing his blankets with him, Dean chose Charlie without giving it much thought.  The sun was only just coming up over the trees when the five of them all lay down in their respective rooms.

“Charlie?”

“Hmm?”

“You know a little about magic, right?” 

She chuckled, “Yeah, more than I want to, actually.”  She rolled over to face him.  “Why?  What do you want to know?”

“Well, uh, is it possible for castors to, like, visit people’s dreams?”

“Yeah, of course.  Dream-walking.”

“Oh.”

“Gilda used to do it when things were hectic and we didn’t have any time for each other.  Makes for the best sex though,” she grinned.  Dean hoped the curtains closed enough of the light out so she couldn’t see the flush rising in his cheeks.

“Is that so.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And does this dream walking thing carry over into being awake?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like,” Dean struggled to find a situation he could use hypothetically, “If someone dream-walking broke their arm in another person’s dream, would their arm be broken when they woke up?”

“I think so.  I mean one time Gilda and I had a picnic in a snowy field, and when I woke up I was shivering, so I assume it’s kind of the same idea.”

“Oh, interesting.”

“Hmm,” she agreed sleepily.  “Got any other questions or can I sleep?”

“No I’m good.”

“G’night.”

“Night.”  Dean didn’t fall asleep right away.  That meant Cas had been conscious of what had happened.  Cas had been actively thinking about Dean doing those things to him, and enjoying it.  Maybe.  Maybe Cas had just been having a passing thought about it and Dean was reading too far into it.  He pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes.  He smiled to himself when he remembered the bruise on Cas’s shoulder.  He’d put that there!  It was stupid, but it made him happy.

~

The house was quiet, and Castiel was left with his thoughts once again.  The only sound that punctuated the silence was the soft snoring coming from Sam and Gabe’s room.

Dean hadn’t said a word to him since their eyes met over the bath tub.  In fact, Dean seemed so flustered he wouldn’t even _look_ at Castiel.  Cas wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen, either.  Did he want Dean to mention it?  Did he want them to both ignore it?  How had all this even happened?  It had just been a day dream on Cas’s part.

Instead of thinking further on the matter, Cas took a large bite out of one of the wild chickens Sam had caught.  He said hunters didn’t have time to actually tend animals for the most part, so they release a large population of livestock every once in a while.  Whatever doesn’t get eaten by the monsters ends up in a hunter’s belly.  They had been lucky enough to find one pecking about the front door.  It took Sam less than half an hour to prep the bird manually and another ten for Dean to cook it over the same fire they’d used to heat the water for the baths.  He poked it around the plate, along with some potatoes they’d found in Rufus’s pantry.

Cas had tried not to look at him when Dean had finally removed the rest of his clothes, but there was just something about his freckled skin that made it impossible for Cas to turn his head away.  Unfortunately for him, Gabe had noticed him staring and made some very rude comments that had Cas flushing in embarrassment.  Cas sighed happily now when he thought about it.  The brothers both had hunter marks tattooed over their hearts.  Sam explained that it was to keep demons from possessing them.  Cas didn’t miss the regretful note in his voice.  Dean’s shoulders took the forefront of his thoughts again, pulling off his white shirt, then his mail tunic and trousers.  Cas thankfully hadn’t watched any further.  It was still dark when Dean had finally gotten into the tub, and Cas forced himself to stand and go back inside.

The sight of the handprint on Dean’s shoulder had sparked something possessive in him.  It made him uncomfortable.  He wanted to touch that mark again and feel Dean’s lips on his and having those kinds of thoughts in front of his brother and Sam was absolutely not an option.  Now, sitting alone with only a plate of dead chicken to judge him, he let his imagination run wild.

Sometimes Dean’s lips looked chapped, but other times they looked so soft.  Not that he had made a habit of looking at Dean’s lips of course.  Or imagined his own lips pressing kisses on every single one of his hunter’s freckles and scars.  He wanted Dean’s soul.  He wanted to feel the warmth of Dean around his whole body, like when he had gripped Dean’s shoulder for Gabriel, but he wanted it to be just them and he wanted to pull Dean into his own soul or grace or whatever it was he had-

There was a presence.  Not in the room, or even in the house.  Everyone felt asleep.  No, Cas thought, that was a strange way to phrase it, until he realized that was exactly it.  He could feel everyone’s beings; if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel Gabriel’s heady golden brown grace and Sam’s chocolaty green soul in the closest bedroom.  Both were sleeping, subdued and quiet.  Dean’s soul was easy to find.  It was still bright, though not as radiant as in the waking hours.  Charlie was with him.

But there was someone in the house.  Except there wasn’t.  He couldn’t feel the presence around him.  The more he tried to logically explain it to himself, the more confused he got.  He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Relax…” he muttered to himself.  He pushed all thoughts from his mind except those of Dean.  Those ridiculously long eyelashes, and short clipped hair, and his terribly calloused hands.  That was the presence.  It felt like Dean, but it was in his head.  The presence _wasn’t_ in the house.  It was in his mind.  His eyes flew open and he pushed those thoughts from his mind.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.  He knew sometimes the ghosts in the palace had this effect on people, but Dean wasn’t dead!  He didn’t understand how a man only a few rooms away, and a non-castor at that, could be projecting his presence into Cas’s mind, so the prince shut it off.  There was a flare in his mind just before it went out, like a candle just before being snuffed.  He took a deep shaky breath.  He shoved another bite of chicken into his mouth.  He was not hungry.

When Charlie woke up a few hours later as the sun climbed towards the center of the sky, Cas sparked a fire and heated some of the chicken back up for her.  Michael and Sam were out a while later, and Cas made sure to be out of the house by the time Dean or Gabe woke.  There wasn’t much talking.  Charlie and Sam harnessed the horses while Dean and the two older princes packed up as much food as they could safely take with them, leaving perishables in Rufus’s enchanted cool cellar.  Once everyone was seated on his or her horse, they headed out following the Winchesters.

Castiel didn’t like how silent the ride was.  The horses maintained an easy trot for the most part, meaning conversation would be easy between riders, but road-weariness and anxiety about their destination kept everyone’s mouth shut.  Cas forced himself not to look at Michael’s hands on Dean’s waist, or worse, his shoulder.  That was Cas’s place.  Baby’s snort was enough to break Cas’s train of thought there.

~

“You really don’t need to worry about the watch,” Castiel insisted.  “I am not tired.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“The day before the cave I believe.”

“That was two days ago!  How are you still functioning?” Gabe growled at him.

“I don’t know.  I’m just not tired.”

“We’ll just have to change that.”

“And how would you go about doing that?” sighed the younger prince.

“I can think of a few ways,” Gabe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m sure you could.”

“And I’m sure Dean would be just as grateful,” he sing-songed in that tone only older siblings can manage.  Cas tried to laugh away the nervousness, but it was obviously forced.  He and Gabe were supposed to be on the first watch of the night, but Sam and Dean had yet to pull their blankets over their chests.  Instead they were engrossed in their own conversation, hushed below the crackle of fire.  Charlie had fallen asleep almost immediately after a few draughts of wine Gabe had pilfered from Rufus’s cellar.  Michael had not eaten supper with them.  The intolerable man had fallen asleep on Dean’s back an hour before they’d stopped.  Castiel didn’t know if he envied or pitied his brother.

Dean had lifted the drooping man off of Baby and carried him to the site where Gabe had Castiel light the fire with magic, which was surprisingly easy when a flare of jealousy licked the back of his throat at the sight of Dean holding the oldest prince so intimately.  The bile and acrid taste on his tongue died when he noticed the stoic, unmoved look about Dean’s face.  It was no different than if he were moving a boulder.  Although to be fair, Michael had about the personality and appeal of a boulder, in Gabe’s loud and pronounced opinion.

Now Gabe and Cas sat on a log watching the flames jump and dance futilely towards the dry trees above.  Gabe insisted upon wasting valuable sleeping time “bonding” with his brother.  At least that was how he put it.  Cas saw it more as time for Gabe to make rude and ridiculous comments about anything and everything.  Although he wouldn’t say he didn’t enjoy Gabe’s company.

“But seriously.  You seem to radiate power, Cassie.  Have you tried unloading some of that energy into an object?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you go grab your sword and we’ll try it?”

“Why would I put energy into my sword?  I hardly use it.”

“Alright, then what do you have on you that you could siphon off some light into, huh?”

“Ana said gems were most common…”

“Ya’ happen to have one on ya’ then?”

“Not on me.”  He rose.  He hoped his legs were not shaking as much they felt like they were.  Gabe said nothing, but only passed him a slightly confused look.  He made a quick line towards Dean.  The brothers stopped talking abruptly when they saw Cas.  Dean’s jaw flexed and Sam coughed awkwardly.  Castiel decided it was best he didn’t try and guess what they had been discussing.  Instead he faced Dean.

“I think I will need my brooch back for a moment.”  At first Dean was confused, his eyebrows drawn together, but then his soul flared out in understanding.

“Oh, your eye thing.”  He laughed when he saw that he’d confused Cas, but pulled the brooch out of his pocket, after ruffling around in his blanket.  If his hand was trembling slightly when he pressed it into Cas’s palm, neither of them said anything.  The prince nodded in thanks and left without another word.  He consciously set his pace to be slow as he walked away.  Whistling, Gabe gave him an awfully smug grin.

“You two are so in love,” he teased evilly.  Cas didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.  He flopped down next to his brother and held out the blue brooch, glinting even in the darkness.  Gabe took it in hand, still smirking at his little baby brother.  He gave it a quick look over and tossed it back.  “looks good.”

“How do I do it?”

“You just think about whatever it is that makes your magic do its thing, but instead of doing its thing, you think about it moving into the thing.”

“Your explanation is highly illuminating, thank you Gabriel,” Cas deadpanned.

“Hey, it’s hard to explain.  It’s not like I’m a tutor or something.  I only know how to do it, not teach it.”

“If you know how to do it, you should be able to tell me how.”  Gabriel rolled his shoulders and sighed.  “Where do you go?”

“What?” the older prince asked.

“Where do you go when you cast.”

“Oh, you mean my focus.”  He sighed again.  “It’s, uh, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“There’s not much you can do to further tarnish my image of you, Gabe.”

“Thanks Cassie, good to know I’ve always been a disappointment.”

“Where do you go?”

“The kitchen.”

“What?”

“I go to the kitchen.  When Rachel was the cook.  You were still pretty little I think.”

“That’s your warmth?  The kitchen?”

“I told you it was embarrassing!” Gabe defended in a hiss.

“No, Gabriel,” Cas tried to correct his tone, “I just never would have thought.”

“Yeah, well I guess we don’t know each other as well as we thought.”  Gabe’s voice was far away, and when Cas looked to his eyes, they were looking inward, rather than out.

“And then you must extend yourself into the gem?”

“You could put it that way I suppose.  It’s more of a flow than an extension.”  He chuckled.  “A river, since your grace is so blue.”  Castiel nodded sullenly and felt the weight of the brooch in his palm.  It was warm from being in Dean’s pocket still.  He thought of his grace flowing, like Gabe had said.  It was strange, he decided, but not overly so.

The energy he’d felt thrumming just under his skin, in his blood and being leeched out of his fingertips.  It was easy, really.  Just thinking of the warmth the gem held was enough to focus his power.  He felt his eyelids drooping, but Gabriel pulled him out of his trance.

“You alright?”

“Huh? Yes, of course.  I think so.”  He scrubbed his empty palm over his face.  “Yes I’m fine.”  Gabe leaned back and withdrew the hand he’d apparently placed on Cas’s arm.

“You looked like you were gonna pass out there for a second.”

“I was only doing it for a second.”  Gabe turned his head slightly and gave him a studious look.

“No,” he said, “No, you were casting for a good few minutes there.”  Reaching back out again, Gabe gently took the brooch from his brother and examined it once more.  “Shit!”

“What?  What is it?”

“You put way too much grace in here!”

“What do you mean?”

“How are you feeling?  Are you light headed?”  Gabe had both his hands on Cas’s arms again and then he was checking him all over.

“Gabriel, I’m fine.  I’m a bit fatigued, but I’m fine.”

“Are you tired enough to sleep?”

“I don’t know,” Cas thought slowly.  “It’s hard to say.”

“Well, normally, I’d say that you should keep putting in grace until you feel like you need to sleep, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea with you.”  He glanced up from inspecting Cas’s armpit.  “Are you hungry or anything?”

“If there’s anything left over from supper, I would not be opposed to finishing it.”

“Gimme a second.”  He dropped the brooch back into Castiel’s palm and stood to get the last bits of chicken still sitting near the fire.  He returned and handed it to Cas without bothering to fetch any sort of plate or utensil.  “Worrying over you is making me tired.  You won’t fall asleep if I do, will you?”

“Probably not.”

“Good.”  Gabriel managed to stay up for another hour or so before he nodded off mid-sentence.  Sam and Dean must have gone to sleep at some point too, because as Cas gazed over the shrinking fire, their blanketed forms were still.  Castiel closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.  He felt much better after eating.  Almost back up to his previous strength.  That rushing, skipping feeling of having power hummed along in his fingers and up his arms.  He only opened his eyes to glance at the brooch he still clutched.  He wanted it to retain the warmth it had taken from Dean, even if that warmth was only his own at this point.  When he finally cracked his eyes to the night, he almost had to shut them again against the bright shine of the gem.  If he hadn’t realized before, now he knew.  The blue aura around Dean’s green and gold soul was the exact same color.  Cas’s grace was surrounding Dean’s soul, acting as a protective barrier.  Something stirred across the clearing.

“You still up Cas?”

“Yes, I’m awake.”

“Good.  Anyone else up?”

“No, it’s only me.”

“Good.  Good.”  Dean rubbed his fist into his eye and yawned dramatically.  He stripped his blanket off his legs and stretched as well.  Pulling the blanket along with him, he made his way around the fire and towards Cas.  Then he sat as far away from the prince as possible, while still maintaining conversation-closeness.  “You know,” he started awkwardly, “I kept thinking maybe you’d visit me tonight too.”  Cas jerked his head up to give a panicked look.  He would never admit that seeing that blue halo dancing just above Dean’s soul was a little comforting.

“I-I don’t really have any explanation.  It just happened, I think.”

“it’s okay Cas.  I’m definitely not complaining.  Charlie told me a little bit about it.  Dream-walking?”

Dream-walking!  Of course!  He shook his head in disbelief.  Ana used to visit him sometimes when he was little to help keep nightmares away.  That’s why having Dean’s presence in his head had been so familiar.

“It’s crazy, huh?” Dean chuckled nervously.  He was obviously skirting a larger issue, but Cas could only nod, stunned that he hadn’t realized.  “Um, before Rufus’s place, in the cave I mean, I-”

“I apologize.”

“What?”

“I apologize for putting you through all this.  If I could control these powers, I never would have dragged you into this mess in the first place.  If I’d been a normal prince and gained my ability when I needed to, you wouldn’t be forced to guide three hapless princes around the woods, and-”

“Whoa, whoa there Cas!” Dean put his hands up defensively.  He had scooted a little closer and leaned in.  “If you’d been a normal prince or whatever crazy notion of normal you’ve got up in that strange mind of yours, we never would have met, and we never would have become friends.  I think that’s worth something, right?”

“I-I do enjoy your friendship.  Sam’s as well.  Even Charlie is rather kind, even if she is a thief and wanted criminal.”

“And if that enjoyment happens to lead to other things, like your magic, or Gabe and Michael joining on, I still have to say it was worth it for me,” Dean half-grinned.  “And um, if it even leads to other things,” he paused and gave Castiel a pointed look, “I think I’d be fine with that too.”

Castiel couldn’t quite understand what dean was trying to say.  He was sure that he had meant something significant, but what exactly it was escaped his understanding.  “How do you mean?” he asked with his eyebrows scrunched up.  Dean only stared for a moment, trying to process just how clueless his prince was.  Then he let out a long sigh, clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath.

Castiel froze under the touch at first.  If he’d been confused before, he was very confused now.  Dean’s lips were on his, which was fantastic.  They were softer than he’d expected.  But what did he do?  He had no experience in this kind of thing!  Reading about it was one thing, and day-dreaming about it was another, but actually acting out on those desires was difficult.  When Dean’s mouth began to pull away, he almost wanted to call out and say, “Wait!  Let me try again!”

Dean must have sensed it, because he didn’t leave Cas alone too long.  Instead, he gave soft pecks down the side of his stubbled jaw bone, breathing out the words, “So, so clueless, You are so wonderfully clueless.”  Castiel finally took a breath and Dean pulled away totally.  His eyes searched Castiel’s for any sign of discomfort.  Cas didn’t let him search much more than a second.

He reached out a shaky hand as quickly as he could to bring Dean back in.  This time, he tried desperately to kiss back.  Dean had to pull away laughing.

“What?  What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” snickered Dean.  “You’re just a terrible kisser!”  Cas felt his face flush and his jaw click shut.  “Aw, Cas, don’t be like that!  It’s not a big deal, and besides,” he leaned in close again, pressing their foreheads together, “this just means we’ll have to practice a whole lot.”  And so they did.  They practiced until Dean began getting lazy and sloppy, and their chaste kisses turned into necking and snuggling, although Dean would never admit it.

When Sam woke up just before the sun reached its fingers to the sky, he found them sitting on that log.  Cas was ram-rod straight, staring into the fire, Dean leaning on his shoulder, the bridge of his freckled nose plastered to Cas’s neck.  Sam didn’t say anything.  Other than a simple “Hello, Sam,” neither did Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you enjoyed the gay. Things will be much gayer from now on.
> 
> I promised butt stuff. I will not disappoint.
> 
> <3


	27. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The royalty of Celeta are the descendants of angels. That’s why we have grace, not souls. Over hundreds of years and multiple generations of inbreeding, the royal family got kind of messed up, in terms of power. Too much grace, too small a vessel.”

“Call off the engagement Ana, Cassie’s found himself a new bride!” Gabriel whispered to his sister.

“What? Who?”

“Dean, of course!”

“Oh, oh my,” she forced out.  She sounded very distracted today, like there was something she knew she was forgetting, but couldn’t remember exactly what it was.

“You really ought to see how in love they are.  It’s almost sickening.”

“Really?  Are you jealous, Gabriel?”

“Of course I’m jealous!  Have you _seen_ Dean?  He’s almost as attractive as Sam!”

“How is Cassie doing with his magic?” she asked abruptly.

“Uh, pretty good.  The boy’s like a furnace in terms of power.  I got him to shed some of the excess into a gem he had last night, but he’s back at full power already.”  Ana sighed heavily into the connection.

“Gabriel, you have to tell him.  This is so dangerous.  Not only for him, but everyone else!”

“I want to, but how the hell am I supposed to bring it up, huh?  Oh, hey Cassie!  You have the power of the universe in your head and could theoretically go mad and destroy the entire earth!  Have fun!”

“Gabriel!  This is important!  He needs to know!”  Gabriel grumbled over her command.  Squeezing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he sighed and acquiesced.

“I’ll try again tonight.”

“I have to go.  Call me again as soon as you get to Dema.”

“Good bye.”

“Good luck.”

And the connection faded.  Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder why Ana seemed so stressed, the worry in her voice causing tension to seep into the conversation.  He figured it was probably tough being the only one there with Papa dying and Mama being Mama.  As he pushed a hand through his honey-colored hair, he decided he had his own issues to worry about.  Castiel was number one on his list.

He sauntered back to the clearing where the rest of the group, sans Michael, was packing the blankets back onto their horses.  Charlie had volunteered to take care of Gabriel’s horse while he took a morning piss, for which he was eternally grateful.  Michael sat on the log by the fire pit that Cas and Dean had been cuddling on earlier.  Not that anyone had let Michael know.  Honestly, Gabriel had a feeling that if Michael realized just how close Cassie and Dean were, there would be hell to pay.  He sat there, the stupid prince, picking at his nails and rolling his eyes at literally everything the others were saying.

Dean and Cassie were giving each other strange looks, almost like they were communicating without words, and for all Gabe knew, they were.  Familiars and their masters could usually communicate through their soul connection without having to actually make a call, so it wouldn’t really surprise Gabe if that’s what was happening.

“You ready, Gabe?” Sam called as he threw his leg over Ford’s back.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”  So the rest of the party mounted their horses and pointed themselves in the direction of Dema, kingdom of the Dusk.

~

Dean knew they’d been lucky so far.  They’d been in the forest for almost a week and they hadn’t run into any creatures or monsters.  Well, he supposed Michael hadn’t been so lucky, but he’d lived.  Dean felt a spike of concern that wasn’t his jut through his mind.  He glanced over at Castiel who was riding next to him.  The prince’s jaw was clenched as he stared at the growling thing ahead of them.  They’d make it through this, Dean was certain.  Changelings were mostly harmless to adults, and easy to kill.  But Dean could definitely understand his misgivings.  They were hideous, with their vacant eyes and rotting flesh.  This one especially seemed to be slowly decomposing before their eyes.  Likely it hadn’t been eating very well lately.

He tried sending some sort of reassurance through whatever channel in his head he’d been ignoring until last night.  It was still foreign, like he’d never quite get the hang of pushing emotions into it, but he was trying.  It seemed natural for Cas, that lucky bastard.  He smiled to himself until he remembered Michael’s hands on his waist.

“What the hell is that thing!” Charlie screeched.  She and Hermione were both shifting uncomfortably, and Charlie was yanking the reins back and forth in fear.  “What the hell!”

“It’s a changeling,” Sam called.  “It’s okay, just stay back, Dean and I will handle this.”  He hopped off Ford and found a large branch on the forest floor.  The changeling was growling softly, curling its slimy hands into the ground.  Sam snapped a fire into existence after a little effort.  “Dean?  You wanna help?”

“Sorry!”  Michael’s hands gripped him tighter, but Dean struggled out of his vice hold.  Castiel’s apprehension only grew as Dean alighted.  Damn, that was weird.  He tried thinking calming thoughts for Cas’s sake.  Taking a deep breath, he drew his sword.  “Corner it then light it up?”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam grunted.  So Dean held his sword ahead of him and crept slowly towards the growling thing.  Dean could practically feel Cas’s heart thrumming in his head.  He thought as hard as he could without losing sight of the changeling.

‘Cas, I’m gonna need you to shut up for a moment,’ he grumbled angrily in his head.  He wasn’t expecting an answer, since as far as he knew, they could only share emotions.  He jumped when Cas’s deep voice replied.

‘Apologies,’ was all it said.  Then a huge wooden door slammed in his skull, and the cold crept in.  He tried not to focus on the loneliness Cas’s flight left him with.  Instead, he watched the decaying face and depthless dull eyes of the creature in front of him.  He could feel Sam a little ways behind him with the fire, ready to throw the torch the moment he was needed.  The closer he got, the tenser the thing became.  Finally, when he was only a few paces away, the changeling sprang off the ground and lunged at him.

“Dean!” Cas screamed.  Cas was just about to ride forward when Sam’s torch almost exploded in his hand.  The younger hunter yelped and threw the ball of flame forward toward the changeling.  There was too much going on after that to process.  Michael and Castiel both prodded their horses forward, Castiel’s balked at the fire and whinnied angrily, while Baby jumped through it with no qualms.  Sam was trying to re-mount Ford, but got his foot stuck in a stirrup.  Charlie was screaming and trying to put the fire out with the water they had.  Gabriel was chanting a spell Castiel didn’t recognize.

Where was Dean.

There was too much noise, Cas couldn’t hear his hunter’s voice, he couldn’t see him, and worse yet, his brother was rushing towards him.  The screaming wouldn’t stop, the fire was spreading, Sam joined in yelling at Charlie to work faster or get out of the way it was hard to tell.  Gabriel was still trying to cast the fire away, but could only take sections and Cas’s eyes were spinning in his skull.

Then Dean screamed.

The fire had spread and begun a journey up two trees, making a bright orange corridor that was certain to kill anyone who went through it.  It looked like it was chewing something, the gate was mulling it over before spitting it out.  Michael and Baby rode out from between the trees, frantic.

Dean screamed again.

Cas lost it.

“Enough!” his voice bellowed out.  This time he felt it.  He felt the wings erupt from his back and his halo burst to the heavens above.  The fire bloated, shrieked, tore everything to shreds, and then died quietly.  The trees were charred, not that Castiel could even see anything anymore.  It was strange.  Like being in a dream, but not really.  He was not in control of his own limbs, he only had a slight understanding of what was going on.  Now he knew what it was like.  It was the feeling just before falling asleep, where the floor drops out from beneath his feet even though he is lying in a bed.  He has no control.

He steps through those two twin trees, black with ash and their own charred flesh.  He could feel Dean’s soul still.  He was alive.  But he was hurt, Castiel could feel it.  He felt a phantom pain in his left leg and let out a sigh.  The party behind him was completely silent; the horses even did not snort or paw at the ground.  Dean’s soul was waiting, calling out to him.  He zeroed in on the green warmth and walked quietly.  When he could feel the light only a few steps from him, he crouched to the ground.  Now he could sense Dean’s physical form.  He was shaking.

“Cas,” he breathed out, “Cas, I’m fine, it’s just a scratch.”  He didn’t like the way Dean’s voice sounded.  Why was he afraid?  There was nothing to be fearful of.  Castiel was here and would heal him.  He reached a hand out, loving the way Dean’s breath huffed out over his hand.  “Cas, no…Cas stop, please don’t-”

“Shhh,” Cas felt his lips say, “shh…”  Letting his hand touch against Dean’s cheek, he let the power leach out of his fingertips.  He sought out the pain in Dean’s leg and knit the flesh and arteries together.  No scarring.  Dean fell backwards with a huff.  His breathing stayed heavy, but he was alive, and that was all Castiel cared about.  That was when he heard the rasping breath behind him.  He flew at the creature, pinning it to one of the trees.  Its flesh was already melting off, and the surge of wrathful energy caused it to wail pathetically.

“Cas!” Dean called.  “Cas, it’s dead, stop!”

Cas threw more of his grace through it, relishing the way is curdled and screamed under his hand.  He could feel every particle of it burning under his tips.  A hand clutched at his shoulder and he had to turn away.  Dean stood there, breathing erratically.

“Cas, it’s dead!”

And suddenly Cas felt drained.  He didn’t know if it was just because he’d used a lot of magic or the way Dean was looking at him.  Fear.  There was fear and sadness and uncertainty behind those eyes, even in the soft light of the dawn.  He pitched forward into Dean’s arms and into darkness.

~

“He’s a pure-blood, and you thought you should just keep that from us?  Do you have any idea how dangerous that is, Gabriel?”

“Of course I do, Michael, I was going to try and tell him tonight!  It’s not like I was plotting behind his back unlike some of us,” Gabriel hissed.  He glanced over at Dean.  The poor guy had been pretty shaken up when Sam had finally had the balls to run in after Cas.  Apparently, he’d found Dean clutching the prince, weeping and muttering to himself.  He’d been almost silent save a few grunts since he’d returned to the posse.

“Well, now I can feel justified in wanting him dead.”

Dean’s head snapped up and Gabriel swore he heard a growl.

“what the hell Michael?  He’s your, our brother!”

“And he’s also a pure-blood.  Need I remind you what happened the last time a pure-blood came to the throne?  It’s for the good of the kingdom that he be put to an honorable death.”

“Okay, Mike.  I’m gonna try this again, but in terms I think you’ll understand.  He’s a pure-blood,” Gabriel spoke in a slow, patronizing tone, complete with over exaggerated facial expressions and ridiculous arm movements, “Pure-bloods are insanely powerful.  We’re going to Dema to challenge the most powerful king in the area.  We need all the power we can get.”  When Michael did not move, Gabriel practically screamed at him, “You can’t kill him, you oaf!”

“I’ll accept that he will be useful on this mission,” Michael finally gave in, “but upon our return home, he will be executed.”  Charlie whistled softly.

“When you royals get mad you don’t mess around do you?  And I thought I was a tough ruler.”  Sam punched her in the arm and Gabe gave her a harsh look.   “What?” she asked angrily.  Rubbing her shoulder, she stood and grumbled about needing another piss.

“I’m not sure I understand what all this is about,” Sam butt in.  “I mean, I know all about the legends.  Angels giving birth to the first king of Celeta and then the eventual spiral into chaos from their own being, but those are only legends.  What’s wrong with Castiel?”  He turned to look at the prince who was sleeping fitfully behind him.

“Unfortunately, Sam, those legends aren’t so much legends as they are…history,” Gabe spelled out carefully.  When Sam only looked interested, he continued.  “The royalty of Celeta are the descendants of angels.  That’s why we have grace, not souls.  Over hundreds of years and multiple generations of inbreeding, the royal family got kind of messed up, in terms of power.  Too much grace, too small a vessel.”  He sighed.  Dean was still shaking, his arms crossed uncomfortably over his armored chest.  “Anyway, that grace can get a little twisted, if things go badly enough.  Raphael, you know of him right?”

“Of course,” Sam nodded.  “He was raving mad.”

“Because he was pure-blooded.  It was looking like war to him, and he snapped.  His grace took over his body, and he basically became one righteous son of a bitch.  Took a thousand innocent lives to make sure he’d stay in power.  His daughter, Raphael II wasn’t much better.  After her, the kings and Queens of Celeta began marrying lesser noblemen or the royals from other kingdoms.  Even people like Mama.”

“Queen Rebecca?”

“She was a barmaid before she was queen.”

“Wow.  How did they know it was the inbreeding?”

“The Mages.  The Mages had been warning the kings and queens for generations, but no one really listened until, well, Castiel.”

“What?  What are you talking about?” Michael demanded.

“Aw, Michael, I’m surprised you didn’t know!  Maybe you should review your old history books.  Queen Raphael’s last daughter was named Castiel.  She was the only one of her parents’ children to _not_ be a pure-blood.  All her siblings went mad leaving her with the throne.”  He glanced around the circle and then squinted up into the sun above the treetops.  The air still stunk of ash and rotting skin, but he was doing his best not to think about it.  “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, wow,” sighed Sam.  Charlie returned from her bathroom break to sit beside the hunter.

“So just how powerful is he?  Is he fairy-level?” she asked lazily.  When Sam gave her an odd look she just replied, “What?  I didn’t go that far to pee, geez.”

“Not quite.  From my basic understanding, fairies operate on a completely different plane.  They don’t have souls, or even grace for that matter.  Cassie’s an angel, so his magic only works within a plane that angels exist in.  If that makes sense.”

“Nope, “ Charlie pooped the last syllable.

“I have to admit, it’s rather complicated.”

“How in God’s name do you know all this?” Michael hissed.

“Oh, Mikey, there’s no need to use our Father’s name in vain.  I read.  Ana and I have been researching.  Easy.  Ana was suspicious; we looked into it.”

Everyone was silent.  No one knew what else to say.  The only noise between the group was the soft sound of Castiel’s breath and the quaking sounds of Dean’s shivers.  Finally, Gabe sighed out a long breath.

“Will he be alright?” Dean whispered.

“What?”

“Will Cas be alright?  He’ll wake up, right?”

“I think so.  He woke up last time, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” replied the older hunter.  “Yeah he did.”  Sam put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, which he twitched away from at first, but then leaned into it.

They didn’t pack their things, since they hadn’t taken anything out.  They gently pushed Cas into his place behind Dean, and Michael took the leftover horse begrudgingly.  The journey was silent for the rest of the day.  Even when they stopped to take midday meal and then when they set up a fire.  The darkness was frustrating for Dean.  He tried to forget what he’d seen.  Gabe had asked him earlier, quietly, if he was ready to tell him what was so upsetting, but he’d declined.  He wanted to tell Cas first.

When he tried to take the first watch, Sam told him to go lay down and try and get some sleep.  Dean shut his eyes and saw the terrible thing over and over, and as much as he wanted Cas to be okay, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look him in the eye for fear of seeing it again.  It was seared into his skull, pulsing like a headache.  When he jolted back awake, Michael was on watch.

“Hello Dean.” The words sounded foreign on this prince’s tongue.  They were predatory instead of calm.

“H-hello,” he muttered to himself.  H wanted to pull the blankets back over his head, but there was something about Michael’s stare that held him still.

“I’ve been hoping to speak to you alone for a while now,” he looked down at the ground and then back at Dean with a slimy smile.  He hated those cold eyes that looked so much like Cas’s.  “I think you should know that I find you fascinating.  I know you and Castiel seem to be fast friends, but you must understand he has nothing to offer you.”

“Wh-what are you saying?” Dean didn’t like this at all.  Not only was Cas out of action, a terror in his mind, and now Michael was asking him-

“I want your hand.”

“My hand.”

“In marriage.  I know that I am betrothed to Lilith, but if what you say is true and Dema is planning for assault, I think I’ll be able to break that off easily.”

“Marriage.”

“Yes, and it’s quite good your face and voice are so nice, otherwise I might find myself bored.”  Dean’s head was reeling.  He wanted to scream and punch something, he wanted to throw something fragile and watch it break.

“I am not a patient man.  I will accept your hand once we return to Celeta, and we shall be wed as soon as possible.”

“I don’t want to marry you.”

At first Michael only looked at him in confusion, but that quickly melted into frustration.  “I don’t think you understand what is happening.  I, the most powerful man of your kingdom, am telling you you shall be mine.  You don’t get a choice.”

“No.  I am not from Celeta.  I was born in the Between Woods.  Lawless land, you can’t force me do anything.”

“I am your prince and you will do as I say.”  There was too much power behind it.  He didn’t say much more.  “Castiel is dangerous, and he will not live much longer.  He cannot offer you what I can.  There is no choice for you.”

Dean shuddered once more, then put his head on his pillow and fell back asleep; perhaps it was only a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Ha ha ha. Hahahahahaha....I'm sorry.


	28. Welcome to Dema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am Michael, of the Crown of Celeta, and I am here with my brothers, Gabriel and Castiel of the Crown. We have come to reclaim our brother, who in his foolishness has sought unneeded shelter here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Guess who finally got a chapter up on time! Yay! Celebration! Anyway, I'm a little unsure about the first section of this chapter. it feels really melodramatic if you ask me, but I kept it in because the literary weight of it, you feel? But I might change it when I get a chance.

Castiel did not remember much.  He remembered screaming and fire, red and yellow heat pouring out of the trees.  He remembers Dean’s voice, a laugh perhaps and crimson teeth, rotting flesh.  Dead eyes.  He remembers deep blue dead eyes.  Then there was nothing.  Then there was sleep and quiet.  He vaguely remembered bouncing on a horse’s back.  He remembered warmth against his chest, and the smell of hickory and summer.  He could hear metal gears grinding on wood.  Snippets and snaps.  Sensations; he could remember sensations.  It was warm now.  There was something soft beneath his back.  He must be in a bed.  Oh, so it was a dream then.  He sighed and tried to move his body around under the sheets, only to discover he was so tired still.  So tired.

“Hey,” his favorite gruff voice called out.  Whose voice was that again?  Someone important.  Someone _very_ important.  He tried opening his eyes.  No use.  He let out and angry breath and pulled the covers up as best he could.  “Hey, Cas.  Cas?”

He grunted in response.  He didn’t feel like he could do much more.  A warm hand brushed his cheek, so he leaned into it.  It must be Ana then.  But Ana was not a man.  He tried to crack his eyes open, but decided it was too much work.  The hand left his face and he was about to grumble his displeasure, when it returned to softly smack him.  Snuffling, he desperately attempted to stop it, but could only turn away.

“Cas, come on.  Are you awake or are you dying?”

“Both,” he said lowly.

“Can you at least open your eyes?”

“No.”

He was not expecting Dean to reach over and force his eyes open, but that was exactly what happened.  The prince fought against it was best he could, the light searing his eyes and making him writhe.  His torturer chuckled softly, and let go.  Cas blinked a few times, still not quite used to the brightness of the room.

“Blow out those lamps,” his jaw finally clicked out.  Dean did as he asked without a word.  Cas struggled to sit up against the headboard of the bed.  Once the lamps were all out, he could take better stock of the room.  It was not the room in the castle he used to sleep in, as he had suspected it would be, but it was still very high quality.  It was probably built for people about three classes above those the Roadhouse usually served.  The sheets were clean, pristine and white.  The furniture was all polished wood, lacquered and shining despite the darkness in the room.  There were no windows, but there was a nicely wrought toilette tray to the side, made of flamboyant iron curves.

“Where are we?”

“Dema.”

“Dema?”

“Dema.”

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“About a day.

“A day?”

“A day.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Dean tried to meet his eyes across the room, but failed once more and ducked his head in defeat.  He threw his ass in a chair Castiel hadn’t noticed before.  Rubbing his cheeks in a stressed out gesture, he sighed.

“A lot of shit happened while you were out.  Cas,” he put his hand over his brow to shade his face further.  “Cas, Michael is…Michael’s gonna try to kill you.”  For a moment Dean only stared at his hands and silence reigned over them.

“I don’t understand.”

“Michael says once you get back to Celeta, his first order will be to have you executed.”

“No, that I understand.  This isn’t the first time Michael has tried to take my life, nor do I believe it will be the last.  Why won’t you look at me?”

“He told me I’m going to marry him.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Damn it Cas!” Dean threw the chair to the floor.  “Michael is going to kill you and force me to marry him, and you’re concerned with why I won’t-”  He glared across the bed at the wall behind his prince’s head, “Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care, Dean.  That is why I’m asking.  Why won’t you look at me?”  Dean’s hands balled into fists.  His jaw locked and he turned his back.  Castiel could see his shoulders rolling under the thin nightshirt hanging off his hunter’s throat.  Had Dean slept here with him?  Where were Gabriel and Sam and Charlie?  “Dean.”

“I’m afraid of you.”

“You’re what of me?”

“Afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“I’m not playing this game, Cas.  You are terrifying, and I don’t think I can look at you without shitting myself.”  Dean’s voice cracked as he said, “I’m afraid of you.”

“Why should you be afraid of me?  I have never threatened you.  I would never attack you.  I don’t understand.”

“Cas, you say that, but you can’t know any of it.  You didn’t see it.  You didn’t see yourself like I did.  You are terrifying, I saw death in you.”

“Dean, what did you see?”

“You, alright?  I saw you.”  Castiel drew his eyebrows together, confused.  Dean rolled his eyes in anger and sighed.  “Not you,” he gestured to Castiel’s body on the bed, “I saw you,” he gestured around the room.  “You…” he covered his mouth again.

“You saw my grace?”

“I don’t know, I guess, maybe.”

“What did I look like to you?  What color did you see?”

“Blue.  There was blue and white and silver,  I  thought I would be happy if I could see you like Sam and Gabe see you, but I don’t think I can do it again.”

“You’re stalling Dean.  Tell me what you saw?  What am I to you?”

“An owl,” he shuddered.  Cas had to silently admit, that was not what he had expected to hear, but then he realized Dean wasn’t done, only trying to control his anger and fear.  “And a stag, and bear, and there were so many wings around you.  It doesn’t sound,” he gulped and groaned.  “It was awful Cas.  I saw death in you.  It was like all the vengeance in the world wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you, and you were coming after me.”

“Dean, look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.  I am not whatever you saw.”

“You are.”

“I am not death.  Michael is death.  Michael is the soldier.  I am the bookkeeper.  Look at me.”

Cas saw his hunter swallow thickly.  He turned around, slowly.

“Look at me.”

Dean lifted his eyes.  They returned to the place behind Cas’s head, trying to flit to Cas’s face, but failing.

“Please.”

Dean’s jaw clenched and he did it.  Their eyes met for a moment.  Then another, and the next thing Castiel knew, Dean was by his bedside leaning over him.

“Please.”

And their lips met and Castiel wanted to surge back up into the embrace, but Dean pulled away.

“We have to be careful,” he whispered.  He still fought to maintain eye contact, but Castiel gave him as much leeway as he felt was safe.  He took Dean’s hand from his face and held it in his own.

“I have to be careful,” Castiel reiterated carefully.  “I had always suspected I was pure.”

“So you know then,” Dean leaned away.  At first, Cas thought he might start pacing again, but, always the surprise, Dean sat down at the edge of the bed.  The cords under the pallet mattress creaked slightly under the added weight.

“Yes.  When I was young, I hoped it was true.  Pure-bloods are infinitely powerful, only subjected by fairies and certain deities.  I thought it would solve all my problems.  But then when I started learning about history, I realized how dangerous it could be.  It fascinated and frightened me.  It’s why I took so much time researching King Raphael.”

“What do you remember?”

“The fire, mainly.  It was too hot, and there was screaming.  That’s all.”

“So you don’t remember healing…”

“I healed?”

“You healed me.  I was cut pretty bad.  The thing hid in the trees when the fire lit up, and got me in the leg.  But your face.  And then you smote the shit out of the thing.  It was awful, Cas.”  Cas brought his teeth together tightly.

“I want to promise that it will never happen again, but, Dean, you know I can’t make that promise.”

“I know.  I just, uh, I just don’t want you to go all righteous and hurt yourself.  Or Sam.  Hell, even Gabe.”

 “I don’t want to hurt anyone either.”

They sat there on the bed together quietly.  Dean leaned back, hands on either side of his hips, and only a few inches away from Cas’s thigh.  Their breath was loud, like they expected something of the other, but could not speak it.  Finally, Cas reached an arm out, cringing as his muscles ached, and gently touched Dean’s shoulder.  The thin fabric prevented him from feeling the skin of Dean’s mark, but he could feel its raised edges, and that gave him a strange satisfaction.  Michael could not have him if he was already Castiel’s.  Dean let out a contented sigh and let himself slump into Cas’s hand.

“You’re tired Dean.  You should sleep.”

“Move over then.”

“Yes, of course.”  Castiel shifted, his own undershirt catching on the patches of sweat pooling on his back.  When Dean slid into the bed, under the covers with him, that satisfaction bloomed and burned into contentedness.

Dean was only asleep for a few minutes before that familiar feeling of _Cas_ entered his dream.  They weren’t naked this time, only shirtless and wrapped around each other, but it was still nice, and if Dean played this right, it could be so much more.  He grinned into Cas’s dark hair at the thought.

“I want to reestablish the link with you.”

“Shit, I hadn’t even noticed it missing,” Dean responded.  He felt Cas chuckle quietly.

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do.  My head’s kinda empty, as is.”

“Your head is perfect.  I should know.”  Dean could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.  Cas snuffled sleepily at Dean’s neck, reaching out with his mind.  When they’d first established the link that wonderful night before the incident, it had been an accident.  Cas had just let his grace feed into Dean, and apparently, Dean had fed his soul right back.  They’d both shied away at first, unused to the sensation of someone else wandering around their heads, but it only took a few minutes to realize how wonderful it could be to know every thought that passed the other’s mind.

So when that odd warm spot in his head lit up again, Dean accepted it eagerly.  Who cared about Michael?

“Please don’t think about my brother while I’m doing this,” Cas complained with a groan.

“Sorry,” laughed his hunter.  He pressed kisses to the top of Cas’s head.  He loved the way Cas smelled.  It was like pine needles and winter breath and something else.  He startled when Cas nipped at his neck, and then laughed.  “A little eager aren’t we?”

“I suppose,” hummed Cas.

They stopped talking for a few minutes, just reveling in each other before Dean started to feel himself getting hard.  Cas’s kisses were still a little under par, but he was a fast learner.  He seemed very fond of Dean’s neck too, which the hunter loved.  He was sure Cas had pilfered that knowledge on his trawls through Dean’s head.  And they dreamed together.

~

Dean squinted as he opened the door to the bright lights in the hall.  He managed to stumble into the hazy bar, which suited his eyes much better.  Sam was at the counter with Gabriel.  Each had a tankard of ale in his hand, and both worry a worried, sad expression.  Gabe looked into his ale as if it could solve all his problems.  Dean coughed awkwardly, and they both whipped around.

“How is he?”

“He’s sleeping again, but he’s alive.”

“Thank God,” Gabe muttered.

“Where’s your other brother?”

“Don’t tell me you’re having sex with both my brothers,” Gabe groaned.

“He’s a little drunk,” Sam tried to salvage the conversation.

“Trust me, Gabe,” Dean said with a reassuring clasp on the prince’s shoulder, “The last thing I want to do is have your older brother like that.  Doesn’t seem to matter to him though.  I’m actually trying to avoid him.”

“Likely story,” Gabe sighed, turning back to his drink.

“How much has he had to drink?” asked Dean waving away the foul breath Gabe left in his wake.

“Too much.”

“Gimme a number.”

“Twelve,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Jesus.”

“Michael’s sleeping in his room.”

“Alright.  Good.”

“How did Cassie take the news?” Gabe muttered.

“Um, well, I think.  He said he’d suspected it for a while, but never let himself really believe it, if that makes sense.”

“He was always the smart one, Cassie.  That’s why Pa loved him so much.  And _that’s_ why Luci and Mike hate him so much.  Cassie was always the best at politics and negotiations, and he can speak way more languages than the rest of us put together, ‘cause he’s a fucking bibliophile, and he doesn’t know how lucky he is.  That little shit.  It’s no wonder they hate him.  He’s perfect!”  Sam and Dean glanced at one another cautiously, but Gabe didn’t stop.  “Old little Cassie!  So pure of heart!  Now he’s a fucking pure-blood too!  How is that even fair?  I want infinite power.  I deserve infinite power.”  He stopped and his eyes went blank.  “Think of all the hotcakes I could create with that much power.”

“Alright, buddy.  Let’s get you into bed,” Sam guided the prince off his stool.  As they staggered towards the hall of rooms, Gabe’s arm draped around Sam’s shoulders as best he could, Sam gave  nod of permission for Dean to finish their drinks still sitting on the finely polished wood bar.

“Twelve drinks,” he breathed out.  “Jesus.”  He slugged Sam’s drink first, then Gabe’s.  Neither was more than half full, so Dean didn’t even get a buzz out of it.  He figured that was for the best anyhow.

They planned to leave as quickly as possible.  They’d already lost so much time to unforeseen events.  Finding Michael had been one long drain of time, and the changeling hadn’t exactly sped things up.  Although if Dean were to have a say, he’d label Cas’s incident as more ‘emotionally draining’ than ‘time consuming’.  Regardless, he told himself, they needed to get moving.  They had been hoping to reach the castle by midday, but they’d obviously missed that window, since the sun was already heading towards the Western horizon.

Luckily, the tavern Michael had set his sights on was in the aristocratic section of the kingdom.  It was probably less than a quarter of a day’s journey from the front of the tavern to the castle’s outer wall.  The morning.  They’d leave early in the morning.  They didn’t need to worry about creatures appearing out of nowhere.  That was mostly a relief, although it also a bit disconcerting for Dean.  Sure, the monsters were gone, but humans made so much less sense.  They could act irrationally.  They had magic he couldn’t fight against.  And that was only if he ignored the constant prickling on the back of his neck.  Sam’s data had told them that demons come from the area around Dema.  Who was to say they didn’t come from Dema?  Seemed likely, in Dean’s head.  And then there was the threat of the Dema secret military.  They hid around, looking unsuspecting, then the moment someone committed an illegal act, they’d emerge from the shadows and take the offender off, never to be seen again.  Or at least that’s what the washer women in Celeta gossiped about.  There was also a mad rumor going around that the secret military officers received their orders directly from Alastair, Crowley’s second oldest step-child.

Dean didn’t hold much faith in rumors like that.  To him, it seemed ludacris that a prince would also be in charge of something as risky as the secret military.  If the secret military even existed, of course.  Dean shook his head.  Maybe that ale was stronger than he’d thought.  He started towards the room he and Sam had decided on, but when he got there, he found Gabe in his bed.  Sam sat on one of the fancy plush chairs in the wide, warm room.  He was reading some book he’d been ridiculous enough to bring along on this awful adventure.  He peeked over the book innocently then darted back down.

“Fine, I’ll go sleep in Cas’s room.”

“Right, “sleep”,” Sam called playfully.

“Shut it, you overgrown moose!  Castiel is a gentleman,” he teased.  “Unlike whatever that thing is,” flicked a hand at Gabe, who’s prone form was completely spread out on the fluffy mattress.  Apparently, Michael hadn’t been lying when he’d accused Gabe of stealing covers, since the prince was wrapped up like a caterpillar in the rich green quilts.  Dean grabbed his black leather night bag and left with a quick wave.

~

Cas needed to ride with him.  He insisted.  When Michael would try and make some half-baked excuse as to why Dean should take him instead of Castiel, Dean had played along and commented that, “Oh no, Cas was still too weak to riding alone.”  Castiel thought he might actually be in love.

He made no disguise of nuzzling into the back of Dean’s neck, playfully biting at his ears until Dean hissed to quit.  He was making him loose focus.  “Seriously Cas, what if Michael sees?”

“Let him see.  You do not want him, so you?”

“Of course I don’t,” Dean sighed.  “But that doesn’t mean he can’t make both our lives a living hell.  Plus, let’s not give him any other reason to kill you before we’ve figured out a way to get you out of that sentence.”

“Fair enough,” Cas breathed in the smell of leather off Dean’s back.  “Are you still afraid of me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Dean responded immediately.  No hesitation.  “That doesn’t mean I can’t look at you.  That doesn’t mean I can’t treat you like you deserve to be treated.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”  Through the link, Dean let a small apology through in a trickle.  Cas ate it up and pushed his understanding at Dean.  This was hard for the hunter.  He was practically involved with one of the very things he hunted.  That could not be as simple as he let on.  Dean gave a larger surge of humor to Cas.  Oh, he’d forgotten Dean could feel those thoughts too.  He smiled against Dean’s hair and mumbled an apology himself.

~

The castle was gloomy.  There was no other way to describe it.  Celeta, the kingdom of the Dawn, was adorned like a crown.  The lower quarter wrapped around the more prosperous citizens, who shimmered in a ring around the nobles, those related to the crown, and any retired knights who chose to live there.  Sitting at the top of the hill was their shining castle, cool light grey with iron supports.  The keep towered over the whole kingdom, like the crystal jewel on the top of a crown.

Dema’s castle was the opposite in every way possible.  The stone was dirty, dark brownish with cracks and missing stones.  Deep green ivy crept up the sides in a sinister manner.  The moat stank like shit, but no one else seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care.  When Michael announced to the gatekeeper who they were, the drawbridge immediately groaned awake.  Castiel watched carefully as it creaked down, down, down.  Finally, it came to the ground with a rumbling thump.  All brightness in their party fled, like the castle could suck it out of them.  If Celeta was a crown, shining upon a hill, Dema was a blade, a dark piece of obsidian that cut to the bone without a person to speak against it.

Castiel felt a chill go up his spine.  Dean tried his best to sooth him with reassuring thoughts, but it was obvious to both of them that the other was beyond nervous.  A herald met them before they were halfway across the courtyard.

“Ho there!” he shouted.  “Halt!  Who are you?  What is your business with the Crown of Dema?”

“I am Michael, of the Crown of Celeta, and I am here with my brothers, Gabriel and Castiel of the Crown.  We have come to reclaim our brother, who in his foolishness has sought unneeded shelter here.”  The herald opened his mouth to speak again, but Michael hushed him by raising a hand.  Take us as far as you can, child.”  The herald’s face dropped into something like fear.  Dean hated to admit it, but having someone as frightening as Michael on for the ride was helpful at times.  The herald spoke with a stutter.

“Th-then please, if you would dismount, the stable hands will tend to your horses.  Um, please follow me.  If you will.”

Everyone else took their notes from the eldest prince and hopped off their horses.  When the bland herald called over a stable hand, Cas took Dean’s hand for a moment and squeezed.  He felt a flare of happiness, and couldn’t decide if it was his own or Dean’s.  He didn’t care.

They walked towards the rotting wooden doors leading to the entry halls.  Castiel noticed there were men in all of the skinny windows, every single one pointing a bow and arrow at their party.  The hall was narrow and skeletal, but it was at least free of that putrid odor.  The herald directed them further in where a man named Brady would help them.  Through two doors, to the right and in the hall next to the window made of glass roses.  How Michael could walk about with such authority in a castle that wasn’t even his, Cas would never understand.  Perhaps Michael really would be a more effective king.  Castiel shivered in the dank air of the hall.

Brady was a slimy man, standing in a slimy room.  Castiel did not know any other way to describe him.  He had nice teeth and what seemed to be a handsome face, but it was easy to see that he didn’t use those assets for others.  His skin was leathery and yellow, and his eyes were hungry in a way Cas did not know.  The room was damp and warm.  There was a cold blue fire in the hewn grate below it, and large deer antlers hung over the mantel piece.  Their dead eyes seemed to follow Cas as he moved to look at the large moose head mounted on the opposite wall.  The walls and floor were dark with few other decorations.  Brady sat tipping back in a fancy chair, smirking at them.  He gave a long greasy sigh.

“So you wanna see the big boss, eh?”

“Yes,” Michael replied effortlessly.  “I require an audience both with your king and with our brother, Lucifer.”  Brady drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  He was making everyone but Michael very nervous, the way he swayed back and forth over the back legs of his seat.  Suddenly, without warning, he dropped his feet and the front legs slammed back to the ground.  He leaned over the table slowly.

“Well both King Crowley and Prince Lucifer are quite busy, you know.  It might take a bit of convincing on my part to get him to see you.”  His smile widened.  “But given the right motivation…”

Michael reached out to Gabriel without taking his stormy eyes off Brady.  “Gabriel, I require our gold.”  When Gabe dropped the small bag into Michael’s hand, the older prince reached as deeply as possible into the bag.  Cas didn’t understand when he only pulled out three gold pieces, but said nothing.  Brady’s eyes lit up like silver.

“Although I suppose I could talk to him tomorrow,” he hinted.  Michael pulled two more pieces out of the bag.  “Today then.  Let me show you your rooms, esteemed guests of the Crown.

Welcome to Dema!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys don't like this chapter, please let me know so I can fix it! It also occured to me that you guys may not know I have a tumblr. So here it is!
> 
> bastetcg.tumbr.com
> 
> incredible.


	29. Castle Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg was different. She was so much the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATED 3.8.14 NOW WITH MORE FORESHADOWING AND CHARLIE-DEAN BROTP

Brady had shown them to their rooms quickly, as fast as his stupid little legs could carry him.  Dean ignored his smirk when he gave him and Sam a room with only one bed.  God, Cas was right.  This guy was slippery as a catfish in oil, and Dean couldn’t stand to look at him for more than a few seconds.  But that didn’t matter.  Dean would be sneaking out to visit Cas anyway.  He sent the thought, along with a few other choice visions over to Cas and watched the prince’s face glow bright red.  He tried to keep his composure, and for the most part he managed it.  It was still entertaining to watch him squirm a little.  Besides, it’s not like Cas couldn’t fight back.

Apparently, Cas knew more about sex than he let on, a fact Dean had been surprised to learn last night when his prince had taken him in hand and rubbed him until he couldn’t feel anything but Cas’s hands on him.  Dean hadn’t even said anything; Cas had just done it when he noticed Dean’s erection.  Then when Dean asked if he could return the favor, Cas declined in favor of holding each other.  But Dean wasn’t complaining.  Only surprised.  And then he thought about slowly fucking into Cas’s mouth and-

That wasn’t his though.  He hadn’t thought that.  That was Cas.  Sure enough, as Charlie walked through the door Brady had opened for her, Cas’s face lit up even redder than before.  He kept sending awkward eye twitches over to Dean.  So in return for that wonderful image Cas had sent him, Dean thought about how much he appreciated and enjoyed andmaybeevenloved Castiel.  The prince’s lips drew up into a small smile. Dean counted it as a victory.  Then came Michael’s room, then Gabe’s, then Sam and Dean’s.

At the moment, Dean was lying on the bed mind-talking to Cas.  Sam was sitting at the mahogany desk, reading something he’d found in the room.  It was probably history.  Dean sighed and grumbled to Cas.

“ _How long is this supposed to take anyway?  We’ve already been here for three hours._ ”

“ _Patience.  Bureaucracy takes a while to navigate through.  And even if Brady speaks to Crowley today, that doesn’t mean we’ll get en audience today, or even tomorrow._ ”

“ _Are you kidding me?_ ”

“ _Why would I do that_?”

“ _It’s still a little hard to tell when you’re joking.”_ Cas was smiling.  Dean could feel it on his face, along with his own stupid smile.  He was just lucky Sam was too busy to notice it and give him a hard time about “mental love letters to Cas” or some shit like that.

“ _I was not kidding you.  That’s just the way royalty works._ ”

“ _Well royalty is stupid_.”

“ _Yes, it really is.”_

“ _I’m surprised at you Cas!  Show a little loyalty to your family!”_

“ _It’s hard to be loyal to family when you have a family like mine.”_

“ _True enough.  Two are dangerously homicidal, one has a fetish for sugar, and the other is…well, Ana’s alright I guess.”_

“ _Yes, I think Ana is the only normal one among us,”_ Cas mentally sighed. _“And Gabr_ -” Cas’s thoughts skipped to a halt.

“Cas?”

“ _I have to go, I will see you soon Dean._ ”  And then the connection slammed shut.  It was still there, but only just.  Dean could feel it, but not the sensations associated with it.  It was disconcerting, like having a small pebble under his mattress.  He sat up on the bed with a harsh sniff.  Sam didn’t really notice, so Dean stood and paced.  Finally, Sam dropped his book down and glared at his older brother.

“Dean.  Stop.”

“What?”

So Sam rolled his eyes and said, “What do you think?”

Dean sat back on the bed and began picking at his jagged nails.  Why would Cas shut him out like that?  What couldn’t he share with Dean?  Was it some super-secret information about the Crown?  He carded a hand through his hair.  What if someone was trying to hurt Cas?  No, that couldn’t be it, Cas was invincible after all.

“Dean, either stop or tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong Sam.  I’m gonna go down to the kitchen.”

Sam replied, “Don’t get lost.”  Dean made a rude gesture as he walked out of the room.  Once out in the corridor, Dean made a left.  Away from Cas’s room.  If Cas didn’t want Dean around for whatever was going on, then Dean would respect that.  Begrudgingly.  Brady had mentioned the kitchen was only a few minutes away from their rooms, since they were from another kingdom.  Dean didn’t really know what that was supposed to mean until Cas translated it into common-talk for Dean.

 _“Only servants and cooks sleep near the kitchen,”_ Cas explained.  _“He basically said that because we’re foreign, we’re the equivalent of a scullery maid.”_

Other than that, Dean had no idea where the kitchen was, so he wandered.  He found a suspicious door with a red emblem on it.  It was similar to the hunter’s mark over his heart, but there were sigils he didn’t understand carved into the spaces around the pentacle.  Out of all the doors in the hall, this one was the only one with a seal like that.  He reached out to touch the knob, but pulled back.  It was reflex.  He didn’t know what lay beyond that door but a voice in his head he did not recognize told him, “Not yet.”  He stepped back, hand still stretched out.  He forced an unsteady breath out of his nose.

  Ridiculous.  This whole thing was absolutely ridiculous.  He was wandering around the castle of Dema, and involved in a plot not only to steal a member of the Celeta royal family, but to then use that member to wage war on his home kingdom.  Not to mention the royal love-triangle he was now involved in as well.  If that didn’t make him want to throw himself off the keep roof, he didn’t know what would.  He only realized he was staring at the door in a sort of battle when Charlie’s door opened with a creak.

“Oh, hey Dean!  Wat’re you doing out here?”

“Uh, the-the kitchen.  I was going to go look for the kitchen,” he managed.  He broke eye contact with the door to look at here.

“What a coincidence!  I was just about to do the same.  Let’s go together.”  Dean nodded, so she approached him and let her take his arm.  She was still wearing her light travel trousers and dark red plated vest.  She’d tied her hair back, and changed her boots.  They fell into step easily.  As their steps bounced off the slate walls, Charlie worried her lips and gulped down her words several times.

“You alright?”

“Ha, oh yeah!  I’m fine!”

“Really?” he asked with the arch of an eyebrow

 “Well, I’m a bit nervous actually…” she admitted coyly.  Dean snorted softly at that.  “Hey!  I’m not about confrontation, alright?  I like staying hidden and stealing, not barging in, swords drawn and announcing my every move.”

“You and me both.”

“But you’re a hunter.”

“Hunting’s about staying hidden until the last possible second.  You want to be the predator, not the prey.”  Charlie shrugged at that.

“I guess,” she sighed.  “Doesn’t make me worry any less.  I mean, how do I even start to look for her?”

“Gilda?”

“Yeah.  Like, maybe she’s not even here.  Maybe she’s with some rich man back in town, or maybe they sold her to another kingdom.”

“Charlie,” he shushed, “We’re gonna find her, alright?  No matter what.  If she’s not here, we’ll find out where she is, and then we’ll help you get her back.”  She looked up at him with her big brown eyes with complete trust.

“You promise?”

“I promise on my life.”  Charlie gave him a look.  “Alright, on Sam’s life.”

“That is so unhealthy, but I accept.”

“You’re telling me,” laughed Dean.

“What about you?”

“Wh-what?”

“Well, you’re trying to convince a half-crazed prince to return to his home with you, not to mention help me steal from the king of this kingdom, and then there’s Michael literally breathing down your neck and threatening to kill Cas, plus you and your brother probably have to get back to the Roadhouse eventually and…”

“Well, you know as a hunter, you kinda learn to deal with too many things at once.  You get used to it.”

“Shut up,” she teased.

“Shit.”  He rubbed a hand over his face, but smiled regardless of her perceptiveness.  “Truth is, Charlie, I’m scared out of my mind.  This place makes my skin crawl, and I can’t plan a single thing ahead of time.  I’m not sure what’s going on with Cas at the moment, and Sammy’s powers are still eating at him.  I have no idea how we’re gonna get all that done without losing half the party to prison or-” he broke off and let her put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  “How’d you know I was lying?”

“You’re not as good at hiding thing as you think.”  She flipped her long red hair with a smirk.  “So.  Trouble with the angels then, huh?”

“Oh shut up,” he nudged her playfully with his shoulder.  “I’m not some girl fawning over him.”

“But you kinda are.  So what’s got your bloomers in a twist?”

“I don’t wear bloomers!” he said defensively, with a hint of disgust.  She only raised her eyebrows and hummed.

“You’re not all that good at-”

“Hiding things, yeah, I got it.”  Sneaky girl.  Must have gone through his bags at some point.  He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Well, Cas and have this thing…”  Charlie stepped closer, pulling him in as they walked.  She bit her lower lip in anticipation.  The action did nothing to hide her smile, or the excitement in her posture.

~

When his door creaked open softly, Castiel thought it might be his hunter.  They’d been talking through their mental link playfully since Brady had left them to their rooms.

“I didn’t expect you to come visit me so soon,” he stood to face the opening door, “Dean-”

Only it wasn’t.  Instead, a woman stood there.  She was familiar.  Meg.  It was Meg.

She wasn’t the same as he remembered.  She was still rather round but that was normal for royalty.  Her hair was a deep and chocolaty brown, rather than the short blonde cut she’d favored in their childhood.  She hadn’t knocked when she’d entered, obviously feeling that as his fiancée, she had a right to his personal space.  Castiel quickly sent Dean a good bye thought and then slammed the connection closed.  It was uncomfortable, but he’d deal with it.  And he’d explain it to Dean later.

“Don’t get too happy to see me, Clarence,” she said with a small smile.

“Meg.”

“I have to admit, you did grow up handsome,” she raked her eyes over him with no qualms.  He felt the blood rising in his cheeks and the sweat gathering on his palms.  He took a step backwards.

“Thank you.  You, uh, grew up nicely too.”

“Such a way with words!” she scoffed.  Sitting on the quilt-covered bed, she said, “I have to admit though, I didn’t expect our next meeting to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “You’re not here for me.  You’re here for your pig of a brother.”

“Well, yes.”

“And here I thought our next meeting would be when you swept me off my feet and carry me off into the sunset.  Nope.  You’re here for Luci.  Here to grab him by the balls and drag him back to Celeta.”

She flopped over on the bed casually.  Her dress was a deep, deep red.  It was bloody as a pomegranate.  Cas took a step back.

“What’s the matter Clarence?  You’re glowing.”

“Um, yes, I found my powers.”  He hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it did in his head.  Her narrowing eyes told him otherwise.

“Clarence, you got a stick up your ass or something?  I mean, I remember you were kind of sullen, but Jesus, it’s like some shoved your dick in a beehive.”

“Oh.”  Castiel didn’t remember how vulgar Meg could be.  He knew that after losing her father so young, she’d taken to hanging about outside the castle walls.  Once Crowley had berated her in front of the entire castle staff for spending the night in a brothel.  Well, that was if the royal rumors were to be trusted.  Not that Crowley actually cared about her safety or health or anything like that.  It was just that he’d been in that same brothel and didn’t appreciate her alerting the rest of the establishment that their king was taking a lady of the night into the back rooms.  Meg glared up at him.

“You found your magic then?”

“Yes.”

“You found quite a lot of it, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Hmm.  You might make a good husband yet.”

“I-I hope so.”  She got quiet.  He really couldn’t look at her, lying out provocatively on his bed the way she was.  He was embarrassed by her abandonment of social grace.  But also, he felt bad not telling her right off that he could not marry her.  His stomach dropped when she spoke up again.

“I think about you a lot Clarence.”  Her eyes were soft and her hands fidgeted.

“Uh-”

“I know we said as kids that this was only political, but let’s be honest.  There was only you.  You were the only thing that kept me alive when Crowley got so evil,” she spat out his name like acid.  “And now that you’re here, I’m going to be hitching a ride to Celeta and then we can get hitched,” she grinned.  She looked so much more at home with that slippery smile on her blood red lips.  Oily.  Her hair was as dark as pitch, but her eyes were the night sky.

“Meg, I don’t think-”

“Oh, I know you don’t think Clarence.  You only read.  And then regurgitate what others tell you.”

“Oh.”

She rolled over and put her elbow up to prop her chin in her hand.  Her smile turned sweet.

“Oh Clarence, you always know just what to say, don’t you.”

“I-I suppose.”

“Crowley will have you for dinner.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Cow.  Wants you.  For dinner.”

“I see.  Oh, I see.”

“And he’ll meet with your brother tomorrow.  For political negotiations.”

“Um, perfect.”

“I’m telling you this because it will piss Crowley off.  He’s sent Brady to tell Michael in about an hour, but if you know before hand, then I win don’t I?”

“In a strange, childish way I suppose.”

“Hmph.”  She grinned.  “A little cheeky, too.  You make a girl swoon.”  She practically flew off the bed towards the door.  “I’ll be waiting, Clarence.”  She winked and disappeared out the door.  Castiel let out a long, heavy breath and slumped into the wall behind him.  Meg was different, but she was so much the same.  Rebellious, terribly sensual, and brazen as a bull.  He hadn’t told her.  He hadn’t told Ana.  He hadn’t told Lucifer or Michael.  Dean was in a room two doors down, and his fiancée had just barged into his room.  Dean had to know.  He _had_ to know that he was already engaged.  Everyone knew that.

Megara of the Crown of Dema would be his downfall.

So of course he went to Dean.  But Dean wasn’t there.  Sam sat in the chair by the vanity, reading an old leather bound book with the title, “The History of Dema: Years 20-500”.  He glanced up.

“I-Is Dean here?”  Sam glanced around the room, and then raised an eyebrow at the prince.

“Um, no?”

“Sorry.”

“Are you okay?  You look pale.  Is this palace haunted?”

“No no, I’m fine.  Um, I need to talk to Dean.”

“He said he was looking for the kitchen.  I’m assuming he got lost.”

“I-I think I’ll go look for him.”

“Don’t wear yourself out.  You’re still recovering from that explosion of yourself.”

“I will.  Enjoy your reading.”  They nodded and Cas turned back around to leave.  He didn’t like the corridors in the palace here.  They were damp and dank and smelled like burnt meat.  There were fat lamps burning on the wall in wrought iron holders.  He turned left, away from his room and away from the way Meg had left.  There was something beckoning him that way, and it was not Dean.  Dean was bright and warm, this was dark and empty.  He stood staring up at a door.  There was a sigil there he thought he recognized from a long time ago.  He could feel darkness coming from the cracks around the edges of the hewn door.  He wanted to open it, to go down it.  He wanted to feel the shade on his eyes and sleep.  It would be nice to sleep.

“Cas?”

“Dean.”  He turned away immediately.  “Dean, I need to talk to you.”  He saw Charlie on Dean’s arm the moment after he said it.  Dean didn’t look angry with him, but there was a twinge in his jaw that said he was building walls.  Charlie unwound her arm from the hunter’s.

“You two have fun.”  She patted Dean’s arm and smacked Cas in the rear as she walked past, back into her room.  When Cas saw and heard the door close, he turned back to Dean.

 “I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.  I’m sorry, someone barged into my room, and-”

“Hey,” Dean said softly, “It’s alright.  You’re entitled to your privacy.  We’re, uh, still figuring this whole thing out anyway.”  He forced a smile.

“Dean,” Cas chided.

“Uh, I’m just a little anxious is all,” Dean struggled to get out the words.  “Charlie and I were talking about the whole situation, and she was saying that nothing would work if we weren’t honest.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to that.  He just looked at Dean’s eyes.  He looked at his soul.  Dean shifted on his feet.

“Y-you wanna say something Cas? I feel like an idiot over here.”  Cas didn’t speak, but he took Dean’s face in both his hands and kissed the words out of his mouth instead.  Dean decided he didn’t mind that.

“I need you,” his hunter sighed out

“I-I, uh-”

Dean kissed him again, and he felt the bond between them roil and wrestle to be fully extended, so Cas let it.  He gasped with the intensity of Dean’s feelings rushing through his head.

“ _WantneedhonestCasperfecteyesbluesoulhonestgracewhatishewantneedhonestCas_ ”

_I love you_

Dean’s thoughts stopped

_I’ve known you for two weeks and I love you_

A trickle fell through the link.

_I love you too_

Dean’s hands were shaking against Cas’s arms and it took a moment to realize they were just staring at each other.  A low whistle cut their gaze like a sword.  Dean’s arms snapped to his sides.  Cas stood up straight.  Leaning against the dark wet walls stood Brady.  Cas wanted to destroy him, but he scaled the thought back when he realized just how dangerous that notion could be.

“Well, I was going to let you know that you’ve all been invited to attend supper with the King, but I think I’ll just have to go back and rearrange some name placards.”

“Beat it Brady,” Dean growled, his fists tightening.

“Dean,” cautioned Cas.  “It’s okay.”

“Tell the others,” glowered the slimy man.  He had a devilish smirk and dark eyes.  Pushing away from the wall, he swiveled on his heel and disappeared into the corridors.

“Shit,” breathed Cas.  Dean’s hands were on his face, pushing hair back.

“Are you alright?”

“No.”

“Neither am I.”

~

“Your majesty, I think I’ve discovered something you can use to your advantage.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.  Prince Castiel is in love with the blond hunter boy.”

“Winchesters.  Oh that’s rich.  Those boys have been giving me trouble for years and I can finally destroy them, along with the Crown of Celeta.  Oh, ho! This is better than I ever could have hoped!”  Crowley leaned back in his chair with a harrumph.  Brady shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably.  “Do you have anything else to tell of are you just going to stand there twiddling your thumbs like the ape you are?”

Brady scurried off silently, save the sound of his boots on the stone floor.  Crowley’s wife sighed from the throne next to him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of all that posturing and shouting?”

“No my pet,” he was about to finish, but she cut him off.

“I’m going out into the zoo.  I’ll be back before supper starts.

“Make me some good ones, will you?”

“Oh, I always do don’t I, Cow?”

“Of course my Dear Eve,” and he gave her a slight bow, dismissing her.  He leaned back again.  This would work, and he’d be king of a land more expansive and deadly than any other king in all of history.  A cruel grin crept up his face revealing sharp, inhuman teeth.

Oh yes, this would work marvelously.  It was almost too easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whell, there's only one more chapter left in "The Cage." And that's when all the crazy shit goes down, so hope this is working. I think I promised Lucifer would be in this chapter, but I guess I lied. Sorry. But next chapter, i swear!


	30. King Crowley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel thought he felt someone watching them, but when he turned his head, all he saw was a flash of red fabric disappearing behind the wall to their left. He smiled quietly to himself. He sent Dean a pulse of anticipation and Dean understood. This was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the last chapter (Chapter 29) before March 8, 2014, you might want to go back and reread it. I've updated it so it's slightly less forced and unorganized, so yeah. Anyway, this is the climax of "The Cage", so I hope you enjoy it. It was fun to write because Crowley and Meg I mean come on. So i'll see you all on April 12th for the beginning of part 3! Ciao! <3

The dinner was spiteful and tense.  If Charlie had to pick one word to describe it, she would call it surreal.  She knew she had to be dreaming.  Crowley had been insinuating things all night, from her connection to crime to Michael and Castiel’s interest in Dean.  Lucifer was staring at Sam.  He was hungrier for looks than the quail set in front of him.  Gabriel glared back at Lucifer; poor Sam was fiddling with the multiple sets of silverware, unused to fine dining.  Charlie had been surprised that Dema could even afford the small piles of green vegetables on each guests’ plate.

Charlie decided she preferred Celeta highly over Dema.  Dema had nothing to steal, or rather most of Dema had nothing to steal.  She’d already nicked a nice silver candle holder from the tavern, and had a few short bolts of curtain fabric she’d pilfered from the empty room next to hers.  Most of the kingdom seemed desolate though.  The farmers’ crops were dry and small, the ground was more like ice than dirt.  Even those who should be more prosperous, the traders and merchants, were poor and starving.  The higher class was small, and compared to the aristocracy of Celeta, laughably tattered.

She was too young to remember any news of Dema from before Crowley took control from his brother.  All she knew were the rumors about the steep taxation and the invisible omnipotent threat of war.  King Crowley was like all the rumors said, charismatic, a little chubby, with bug eyes that traced around the room.  But he was greasy too.  It seemed like the whole kingdom had been boiled in tar.  The edges were crusty and brittle, and the royalty, sitting in the middle of that viscous glop was sticky, oily ruler.  Crowley.  Charlie couldn’t tell if he was simply an evil bastard looking to destroy thousands of lives “just because”, or if he was a greedy ruler, only concerned with self-preservation at the cost of anything from a speck of dust to a hundred human souls.  She decided that motive didn’t really matter.  The guy was a dick, and she wasn’t a huge fan of those to begin with.

She was barely listening to the king drone on and on about his beautiful, but bored looking wife, Queen Eve.   Meg was sitting next to Castiel.  She wasn't sure what was going on between them, but Dean didn’t seem to fazed, and those two were throwing mooning glances at each other, so everything must be going alright.  Although Meg did insist upon eating off Castiel’s plate, which Dean rolled his eyes at.  And then there was Alastair sitting between Michael and Eve, but across from Lucifer.  The youngest member of the family after Meg, sat near the end of the long dark table.  His name was Azazel, and according to Gabe’s brief explanation before the dinner, he was the least of their worries.  He had a vacant yellow stare, almost dead, it looked like.

“Too much magic when Eve was pregnant,” Gabe had whispered.  “Misaligned his head connections.  Poor boy can’t do a thing on his own.  His father was so angry when Eve named the kid after him.  King Azazel had wanted to slit his throat once he learned the boy couldn’t use magic.”

“Jesus Christ!  I thought you said Crowley was the worst king Dema had ever seen.”

“He is.  Azazel  at least knew that the peasants have to eat.  Crowley doesn’t care.”

“So Michael and Lilith, then Lucifer and Alastair, and Ana and Azazel, and Cas and Meg…Who are you engaged to?”

Gabe had smirked to himself.  “Originally, Samhain.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Yup.  In some sort of scandal.  Involving Richard and Eve, actually.”

“What is wrong with this family?”

Gabriel shrugged with a sly grin.  “All I know is that it’s worse than my own family, and that’s hard to out-crazy.”

She pushed the stings of quail meat around her plate taking in everyone at the table.  Considering Gabe’s story, she didn’t like the looks Eve and Richard kept throwing each other.  She knew that incest was normally acceptable for royal types in times past, but this was just getting uncomfortable.

“Charlenne, you look a little anxious, and you’ve hardly touched your meal,” remarked Crowley in surprise.  “If you’re not careful, Growly might snap up your plate.” He teased.

“Growly?” Charlie asked tentatively.  A low snarling sound to the left of Crowley made her jump in her seat.

“Shhh girl, it’s okay.  We’ll get you some meat.  Don’t worry.”  Crowley was scratching at something dark and furry by his seat.  Charlie noticed Dean and Cas both going very still as the snarl turned into a whimper and a whine.  Then Crowley beckoned Brady forward and whispered something in his attendant’s ear.  Charlie’s mouth went dry when Brady smiled and chuckled.  Then he left the hall, the quick clicking noises of claws on stone following him out.

“My dog,” Crowley clarified.  “Lilith gave him to me a few years ago for a present.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” she interjected with her tacky smile and bugged out eyes.  “Mother helped make him.”

“Pick him out, Lilith.”

“Right.”

“So I can’t have a dog, but you can,” Meg huffed under her breath.

“That was years ago Meg, darling.  Get over it,” Crowley was still smiling.  Charlie wanted to get up and leave, but she couldn’t help but stay.  There was too much going on to leave now.  Shoving a large piece of meat into her mouth she tried to smile back at Crowley.

“Besides, Meg,” Richard sighed, “He’s in a better place now.”  He aimed a grin at his mother who tittered quietly.

“Fuck off, Dick.”

“Megara!  Such language!”

“Yeah, well here’s some more, “Father”.  You can take your fancy cutlery and shove it straight up your ass.”  She shot up from the table, threw her napkin on her plate and did what Charlie didn’t have the courage to do.

“Isn’t she quite the little fire spark?” Crowley laughed.  Charlie didn’t miss the look Cas shot Dean, nor the nod Dean returned.

“I’ll go and see to her,” Cas mumbled as he stood.

“Of course!  We wouldn’t want your fiancé to cry all alone, now would we?”  The way he said it made Charlie think he knew.  Castiel and he had a glaring match before Castiel whipped himself around and stalked out of the hall after Meg.

“Now Dean.  Sam.  Tell us about yourselves, won’t you?  I’ve always found the hunting life to be so…quaint.”

She could practically see the fire in Dean’s skin.  If there was one word to describe the Between Woods, it was not “quaint,” and Dean told him as much.

“It’s terrible, actually.  You spend your life constantly looking over your shoulder.  Maps can only tell you so much.  It’s dark and desolate and terrifying.”

“We actually took out a rogue vampire about a month ago,” Sam said over Dean.

“Vampire, eh?”

“Yeah, and a-a wolf too.”

“Just a wolf?”

“As far as we could tell.”

“What color?” Crowley asked with a curve to his lips.  Dean’s jaw clenched, but Sam saved him from answering.

“I was hard to see in the night, so probably black.”

“You didn’t keep the pelt?”

“N-not this time.  Too dangerous.”

“Fascinating,” Lilith said with literally no emotion.  She was more of a fixture than a person, Charlie decided.  Vacant as her brother Azazel, only with more words.

“I wonder where all those things come from,” pondered Alastair.

“We’ve been tracking them,” growled Dean.  Eve’s face twitched uncomfortably, and Alastair sat up straighter.

“But enough of that.  Too dark for a celebration.”

“Crowley, We are not here for a celebration,” Michael huffed out.  “We are here to negotiate.  Lucifer must come home.  We need him home.”

“Actually, you won’t.  Not with you on the throne,” Lucifer spat.

“Boys, boys, please!  That’s enough.  We’ll worry about negotiations later.  For now, I want you all to relax and enjoy yourselves.  You’re going to be for a while, after all.”  Both princes of Celeta grumbled.  “How about this: after supper is cleared away and we have our dessert, I’ll take you around the castle, give you a tour.”

The table was silent.  Crowley had his hands spread out on either side of his plate in a gesture of pacification.  Everyone just sort of stared at him.  If the atmosphere wasn’t so tense, Charlie would have laughed outright.

Crowley groused, “It was just an offer.  I’ll try not to be hospitable next time.”

“A tour would be wonderful,” Michael let out slowly, still glaring at the King.  All eyes turned to him now.  “I hardly remember the last time I was in another castle, and I’d like to see what kind of defenses you’ve renovated to.  Celeta is terribly defended at the moment.  I need ideas.”

“Wonderful!  We can start at the front gate.”

~

“Meg, Meg!”

“What?” She whirled around at him.  Her long red dress spun out and flurried around her.  She was closing off.  She was building walls.

“Meg, please.  Come back to dinner.”

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

“What?”

“You don’t want me do you?”

“Meg, what are yo-”

“Save it Clarence!  I am sick of people thinking they can walk all over me!  I can see you and that hunter fawning over each other.  Do you think I’m blind?  I thought…I thought you’d take me away from here.”

“Meg, please.”

She shuddered.  “I was waiting for you!  I waited, hoped every day for you, don’t you get it?  You were the only thing that got me through the nights of that!” She pointed a threatening finger at the dining hall behind him.  He took her other hand and held it closely.

“Meg, I-I cannot offer the love you’ve given me, that much is true, but,” he bit down and glanced at the empty corridor around them.  There was no one else but the past rulers glaring down from a long line of portraits.  He wanted to trust Meg.  He wanted to believe her so badly it hurt.  Dean sent him a warm curl of sympathy.

_“I want to tell her”_

_“She loves you”_

_“Yes”_

_“Tell her”_

“But we’re here to save Gilda, the fairy.”  Meg’s teeth clenched and her eyes lit in fury.  Castiel, still holding her cold hand in his, took a slight step back.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?  You want to destroy my kingdom’s one chance at prosperity too?”

“No, Meg, listen!”

“Let go of me!  You’re just like the rest of them!”  She began thrashing around, snarling her white teeth and bright lips at him.

“Meg, we’ll save you too!”

She stilled.  The anger dropped from her face.  Gripping Castiel’s wrist tightly, she hissed, “Swear to me.”

“Meg, we will save you.  You are my friend, I want you to come back with us to Celeta.”

“Swear it to me!”

“I swear.”

“It’s a trap.  This whole thing is a trap.”

“We know.”

“It’s happening tonight.”

“When?”

“He’s going to show you the castle personally.”

“What else.”

“I don’t know.”

“Meg-”

“I don’t know!”

“It’s alright.”  They stood there holding each other’s wrists quietly.  She shuffled closer, until they were almost pressing together completely.  Cas dipped his head and gently kissed the top of her head.

“I still love you.”

“Thank you.”

~

“Where are we?”

“You don’t recognize it Dean?” Crowley asked with a laugh.  Dean just shrugged.  So far the tour had been relatively boring.  Well, that excluded Castiel joining them at the bathing chambers to silently tell Dean Crowley’s plan.

_“Seriously”_

_“Seriously   I have to say I’m quite disappointed”_

_“You’d think he’d have something a little more subtle than that though”_

_“Apparently not”_

He was just waiting now.  Sam and Charlie seemed just as bored as he was.  There were only so many chambers and halls one could go through before noticing that they were literally all the same.  Sam had asked about the famous Dema zoo, but had received a laugh and quick, “Oh that’ll have to be the finale,” from Crowley.

So they’d puttered around hall after hall, listening to the king drone on and on about the stylistic choices.  Michael seemed to be at least feigning interest, but even Sam, the history nut, and Lucifer, the apparent heir to the castle, were sighing heavily and rolling their eyes.

So he waited.  It was unfortunate that he’d left his sword and most other weapons back in his room, but he still had a small dagger strapped in his boot if he really needed it.  Sam should have one or two as well.  He figured between the two of them, they could definitely over take the pudgy, slow moving king.

“This is the corridor with your rooms!” Crowley motioned up and down the long chamber.  His face was mocking, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh.”

“But it’s deceptive, you know.  There’s a door in this hall that leads to a room.”

“Incredible,” Dean deadpanned.

“Imagine,” Sam continued with false wonder, “If there is a door, there must also be a room.  Then if there is a room, must there also be a door?”

“Oh, so your philosophizing hunters then?”

“When we have market days off,” joked Dean.  Crowley only let another slimy and unsettling smile wipe over his face.

“Well, this particular room happens to lead to another room, which leads to a tunnel which will take us to the famous zoo.  Shall we?”

Sam nodded, finally interested in something.  Dean and Cas exchanged uneasy feelings between them, simultaneously trying to comfort the other.  Castiel thought he felt someone watching them, but when he turned his head, all he saw was a flash of red fabric disappearing behind the wall to their left.  He smiled quietly to himself.  He sent Dean a pulse of anticipation and Dean understood.  This was it.

Crowley stepped towards the door.  Suddenly it made sense.  That door, that overwhelming sense of dread, was hiding something.  It was hiding something that Crowley had been meticulously hiding, biding his time until the moment came.  Dean watched as Lucifer, then Michael passed through the door after Crowley.  A shudder went through each of them as they stepped over the threshold.

He waited.

The steps down the hall echoed his steps as he descended.  Cas stood by his side, wrapping him in warmth to stave off the chill that threatened them both.  Dean grabbed for his hand, finding it right where he thought he would.  Cas would glance over his shoulder every once in a while as they went down the tunnel.  Dean wanted to look back too, but Castiel sent him glances and thoughts, _“Do not look”_ so he did not.

Crowley had used whatever goopy magic he had to light a torch and lead them.  He hummed to himself merrily, the eerie greenish light casting frightening shadows on the smooth gray walls.  No one spoke.  Finally the king stopped.  He offered a tight smile and jingled some keys in his hand.

“Now, the first part of the zoo is…under construction.  And while many of the occupants may seem human, I can assure you they are not.  They are simply demons and vampires and other possessed things.  Of course I assume you two would be able to tell that with just a look,” he nodded at the Winchesters.  “I welcome you all to the famed Dema Royal Zoological Park.”  He fit the key in the lock and the door swung open.  At first, it seemed exactly like the rest of the dark tunnel, but with a snap of his fingers, Crowley lit the hidden torches lining the walls.

The creatures stirred.  Dean could feel their breath in the air, and immediately began to go into hunting mode.  His heartbeat sped up, the hair on the back of his neck prickled.  Cas squeezed his hand gently.  Large gaping chambers hewn into the natural slate were enclosed with thick metal bars.  Some of the cells were large with environments in them, like the kelpie, kept in a shallow puddle surrounded by rocks, or the werewolf sitting in a pile of leaves, sticks, and human bones, growling through her blunt teeth.  Rustling and squirming noises softly filled the long, never ending corridor.  Dean almost vomited when he came across a vampire staked to the wall, groaning “kill me, just kill me already…”  Cas pulled him away, sensing his disgust.

To his right, he noticed Charlie gasp and shiver.  She tried to be natural as she walked towards a cell, and she did mostly a good job.  If you weren’t watching her, like Dean was, she wouldn’t seem any different than Sam inspecting a moaning cat woman, or Lucifer sneering at a dehydrated merman.  But Dean saw how clipped her gait was and knew she’d found what she was looking for.  He decided to give her her privacy.

“If you’ll follow me, Crowley called to his scattered group, “I’ll show you the most exhilarating exhibit we have in Dema.”  His accent made Dean’s blood boil.  And Castiel looked over his shoulder again.

_“Do not look”_

Dean followed Cas’s steps toward the far back of the long tunnel.  Crowley lead the party, save Charlie, to larger chambers.  The animals, monsters, humans-turned-creatures grew more dangerous and more lively.  A wolf with a fish’s tail and bioluminescent bulb hanging off its head reared its hideous, snarling maw at them as they passed.  Gabe jumped and grabbed at Sam’s arm.  Sam didn’t fight it.  On the opposite wall, a naked woman rose from the ground to lick her lips at Michael.  When she rose up a bit further, Dean realized she was not a woman at all, but a naga.  Her giant scaled tail suddenly curled around her and she jerked in her wrist cuffs.  An unearthly screech filled the cavern.

“This, my dears, is a basilisk.  Its eyes are covered to prevent accidental death, but just in case, I wouldn’t suggest looking at his face.”

In the cage next to the naga, a massive lump of snake shifted and slid.  A brightly feathered head rose above the writhing mass.  As the creature opened its massive mouth, its fangs flexed and dripped threateningly.

“Oh don’t worry, it can still sense us,” Crowley chuckled at their bewildered expressions.  “And over here is a personal favorite of mine, the daeva.”  Dean wanted to punch that stupid grin off Crowley’s face.  At first, it seemed like there was nothing in the cavern, but if Dean stared hard enough, every once in a while a shadow would change, flickering where it shouldn’t.  Just as he turned to Cas to whisper something, the monster flew at them, clanging against the bars with outstretched tendrils of arms.  It was a shroud.  It’s body was made of burial clothes, and it moved like smoke.

“Oh ho! Looks like it’s reacting to you.  Doesn’t much like creatures of light,” Crowley clapped a thick hand over Castiel’s shoulder.  “Your halo is probably putting it off.”  Castiel grit his teeth at the contact.

By this time, half the party had shuffled over to the next cage.  Sam, Michael, and Lucifer al stood studying the emptiness before them.  It was obviously the largest cell in the place, probably big enough to house two to three hell hounds, Dean guessed.  Lucifer, being the incorrigible brat that he was, was beating on the bars, trying to rile up whatever lived in the Cage.

“What’s in this one?” Sam asked curiously.

“Nothing yet,” answered Crowley as he sauntered over.  Gabe took Castiel’s other hand and held him back.  Dean thought it was strange, but said nothing.  “We’re saving that for our next addition.  My Eve says she wants to put a leviathan in there if we can catch one. If you’d like though, you can take a look around it.  There’s everything in there.  A fountain, a trough, a bed.  It’s actually rather nice.”

Dean didn’t like his tone.  Gabe pulled them closer toward the empty cage.  Something was wrong.  Everything was wrong.  What was wrong?

“Here, let me open it and show you around.”  Crowley jangled his keys again and separated one.  The bar door swung open.  Michael and Lucifer fought to be the first in.

“This is a trap,” Cas muttered.

“I know,” replied Dean.  He needed to get closer to Sam, to pull him back, but he couldn’t leave Cas.

Suddenly there was a loud howl and many of the creatures began riling themselves, screeching and braying.  Everything was wrong.  Dean hadn’t even turned around completely to see the cause of the ruckus when Crowley’s harsh words entered his ears.

“Three out of six ain’t bad!”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice called out.  Cas wasn’t in his head.  The ceiling shook, casting dust and peddles down on them like hail.  Dean couldn’t see; the cold lights on the wall flared and went out.  Thick hands gripped his arm and Gabe shouted.

“Ana!  We need you now!”

“Cas!”

“Dean!”

“Sammy!”

“You piece of shit!  I’ll kill you!”

“How dare you!”

“Release me!”

A low smarmy laugh was the last thing Dean heard before his shoulder made heavy contact cold hard marble.  He remembered little else.


	31. The Profound Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We shall marry here. Then, I will join you on your quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's a miserable piss baby? It's me! I was supposed to update this yesterday, but i didn't really have my computer sooooo....yeah. Anyway, updates will continue regularly from now on, Saturdays and Sundays. Hope the last part is exciting! :D

His mother would read to him.

_There was once a handsome prince who lived in a big castle far away from everyone.  He lived with his sister and his maid.  His parents where gone and he was so lonely.  So one night, he snuck out the kitchen door and escaped into the woods surrounding his small castle.  He rode for hours not knowing where he was going.  All he knew was that he couldn’t stay where he was.  But he was still lonely.  He thought that maybe the trees would offer him comfort, or the clouds, or the birds, but all stood silent before him._

_He stopped for a while to rest upon a log in a small thicket.  He was tired and hungry.  He had no one to talk to so he spoke to himself._

_“It’s rather quiet out here.  I should think that the woods would be more hospitable to a prince like me.”_

_The only answer he received was a snort from his horse.  He sighed and spoke again._

_“Perhaps I was hasty in my flight.  I miss my sister, and my servant.  How will I get home?  I am so lost.”_

_“Perhaps I can be of help then,” came a deep voice from beyond the thicket bounds.  The prince with his long blue robes shuddered and leaped behind his horse.  He knew how dangerous the woods could be, and from all the stories his sister read him about wolves and wendigos and nymphs.  He knew enough to know he should be fearful of them.  “I bring you no ill will, sir,” the voice came again._

_“Show yourself!” the prince called._

_“One moment please,” the foliage rustled and a man stepped out of the shadows.  The prince clutched at the sword in his belt.  “You are the Prince of the Lone Tower, aren’t you?”_

_“I-Yes.”_

“This is my favorite part!” Dean would always smile and wiggle in his mother’s lap.

“I know, Baby.  You say that every time.”

“I wanna meet a prince.  They’re amazing!  And they have tutors, right?  And servants, like in the stories.”

Mary would laugh then, and say, “Be careful what you wish for, Dear.  You may not like what happens when it comes true.”

“Mama, finish the story!  This is my favorite part!”

_“I am the Prince of the Wandering Woods.  I have been trying to find my younger brother.  He recently wandered off.   But if you would like to go home, I can take you there.  I pass by your tower often.”_

_“I would like to go home, but I do not think I can trust you.”_

_“Look here,” the Wanderer said.  He held out a glinting green medallion with the Wandering Woods crest upon it.  “I am who I say.  I will escort you to your home if you wish, or if you do not believe me, I shall take my leave now.”  He turned to go._

_“Wait!” The Lonely prince called to his back.  “Please return me home.  I miss my sister.”_

_“As you wish, your highness.”  So the Lonely Prince let the Wanderer mount his horse and then saddled on behind him.  And for a while, things were quiet.  But the Wanderer was a curious fellow.  He asked questions the Lonely Prince could not help but answer.  Soon the Lonely Prince realized that he might be in love with the Wandering Prince.  He certainly was handsome, and he was intelligent too.  And he loved his family so much, speaking of his brothers like gods.  So he listened contentedly, adding his own anecdotes as they were needed._

“This is the werewolf attack!”

“Yes, Dean, it is.”

“I can’t wait to go see what werewolves really look like.  Papa always brings back the furs, but I wanna see a real one.  And then I wanna see a vampire and an okami!”

“Shh, Sammy’s sleeping Dean.  Hunting isn’t all fun and games.  Your father has been very lucky so far, and I worry about him constantly.”

“But he’s good at it.”

“Yes, he is; that doesn’t make it any easier.”

“What about the werewolves?”

_The wolves came out of nowhere, and the Lonely Prince almost fainted in his seat.  The Wanderer was not frightened a bit, or if he was, he didn’t let anyone but himself know.  He hopped off the horse and wielded his sword.  First a werewolf came from his left, then from his right, but all it took was a few deft swings of his blade to send them to their maker._

_“You are incredible,” said the Lonely Prince._

_“I’m experienced,” said the Wanderer._

_“I will marry you.”_

_“I accept your offer.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Very.”_

_They rode on until it was night once more until they reached the Prince’s tower.  His sister ran from the door and embraced him before he was even off the horse._

_“Oh, brother, We have missed you!  Where have you gone?  What happened to you?”_

_“I was lost in the woods when he found me.”_

_“You are the Prince of the Wandering Woods, aren’t you?”_

_“Yes, I am,” replied the stranger._

_“We are going to be wed,” said the Lonely Prince, although that loneliness was slowly ebbing from his heart._

_“Oh you will make such wonderful rulers together.  You have my blessing.”_

_“I must still find my brother,” said the Wanderer.  “I will marry you, but I will take leave afterwards to search for him.”_

_The Prince nodded.  “We shall marry here.  Then, I will join you on your quest.” said the Prince.  He called to his servant, and the Wanderer acquiesced.  They were married before the sun came up, then rode out in the morning to find their brother.  And they lived happily ever after._

“What happened after that?”

“What?”

“After!  What happened after?” Dean would always demand.

“Sweetheart, it’s a story.  Nothing happened after.”

“But did they find the Wanderer’s brother?  Why’d they get married when they only knew each other for a few days?  Did they love each other?”

“I don’t know that!” Mary laughed, “Why don’t you tell me, hmm?”  Dean would glance up at her curiously, like he’d never considered that before.

“Then they find his brother.  And they had true love.  That’s why they married so quickly.”

“If that’s how you want the story to end.”

“It is.”


	32. Hacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But here he was, chipping away at the earth because what choice did he have?

Dean hacked the dirt.  He murdered it.  He took his shitty tools and he tilled the barren Earth like Cain.  But that’s how it had been ever since…

His memory was fuzzy, and every time he relived it grew less certain.  But he’d lost his brother, and really, that was all that mattered.  It was all that had ever mattered.  Because Castiel was nothing to him now.  Just a name that he heard on the off chance he had any crops to sell.  He’d go into the market now, not as a customer or fur trader, but as a poor farmer who could only manage to turn out a dusty radish or tough potato now and then.  He shouldn’t complain.  That was how all the farms were now.

Things had changed on his journey to Dema.  The royal family usurped, the city run into chaos, and the good fortune which had blessed the countryside since the end of Queen Hael’s reign suddenly gone.  Dean looked to the clouds.  If he focused hard enough, he could just barely see the Between Woods in his mind.  Over that wall.  Freedom was waiting, if only he could just reach it.  But he didn’t have time for freedom.  He needed to eat, and that meant he needed to get these tubers in the ground before the first frost fell if he wanted then to grow in the spring.

So he hacked.  He threw all the pent up anger and disappointment into his swing and he brought the hoe down on the dirt.  The plow was a nightmare.  He didn’t know what had happened to Baby.  For all he knew, she’d been slaughtered the moment he handed her over to the little servant boys in Dema.  He hated remembering, but it was all he could do when the present was just dirt.

It was obscure in his head.  He remembered rolling out onto the marble floor of the palace throne room.  Cas, and Gabriel had been holding onto him and each other when they slid across the polished surface.  Ana had been there in a scuffle of her own.  A strange, scruffily looking man had her on her knees, long red hair yanked back.  She had passed out once the portal closed.  And then Cas had exploded again.  When Dean looked around, he noticed another red-headed woman dead in the corner.  God, he hoped it wasn’t Charlie.  Where was Charlie?  Had she and Gilda reunited?  Had she made it out of Dema?

  1.   Where was Sam?  Three out of six.  Michael and Lucifer were missing too.  Sam, Lucifer, and Michael were all trapped in Dema.



But more importantly, Cas was currently a writhing mass of energy and light, and maybe he should deal with that first, but no.  Too late.  The man had Ana, and he threw her unconscious body to the side with ease.  He pulled out a gleaming silver dagger.  It would have matched the man’s hair had his hair been cleaner.  Dean wanted to laugh at the way the man was just walking towards Cas.  Dean could feel the rage, the confusion, the utter purity of Castiel’s emotion.  This man was going to die.

“Castiel!  My favorite student!”  Dean thought he might pass out with Castiel’s feelings and incomprehensible thoughts spilling into Dean’s head.   Everything went groggy.  Lines blurred into color, then back into focus.  “And here I thought I’d seen the last of you and your ridiculous brothers.”

Something ethereal and painful filled the room.  It occurred to Dean that Castiel was speaking.  He covered his ears and ducked his head.  Gabriel’s eyes were screwed up in an effort to keep the strident noise out, failing just as terribly as Dean.

“Your father’s dead by the way.  Wasted away to nothing,” the man smirked.  From what Dean could hear of the man’s voice, he was a lilting, vindictive man.  Dean hated him.  He continued, “That plot Crowley cooked up really suited me well.  But I have to say, you should have seen my face when I realized that Anael was casting a portal open,” he said with a dripping smile.  Then he growled and spat on Ana’s form to his left.  Gabriel snarled up at him from the ground.

“That’s my sister, you piece of shit!”

“Oh you don’t say?” the man scoffed in false shock, “then you must be Prince Gabriel!  Guards?”

“Cas,” Dean coughed, “Who is that?”  Pictures barraged his mind like arrows, a huge reigning volley.  The same man teaching Castiel figures in a library, taking notes on kingdom purchases, business.  Castiel knew this man.  They had some sort of connection, but he couldn’t gather it from the soaring images behind his eyes.

“Dean you need to get out of here,” Gabe shouted over the ringing of Castiel’s voice.  The hall was beginning to shake and guardsmen in uniforms Dean did not recognize began filing in.  At first his decision had been hard.  He couldn’t leave.  Not without his brother or Charlie or Cas.  It became clearer when dust and pieces of plaster began hailing down from the shaking beams of ceiling.  What could Dean say?  He’s a coward in the best of times.  He scrambled to his feet, not noticing the tinkling sound of jewel on marble.  He ran.  He got lost.  He hid in about four different chambers before he found the back door through the kitchen.  He made it to the outer wall of the castle before he felt an awful pain tear through his head.  Gripping the wall to keep himself upright, he struggled on.  When the pain eased as he entered the upper class and aristocratic sector of the city, he realized he was alone again.  Castiel had cut the connection.

This time it was not simply a closed door in his head.  The bond had been there, searing heat into his forehead and shoulder, but the strings connecting them were severed.  Dean wanted to cry.  This whole thing was a disaster.  His brother was leagues away, probably being subjected to whatever qualified as Demanian entertainment at the hands of Crowley, or worse, Alastair.  His friend Charlie was in the wind.  Castiel was gone.  Castiel had cut him out of his life.

Dean speared the ground again.  It was still too ambiguous.  He needed to remember better.  He threw the tool’s sharp head into the ground over and over and over, grunting with exertion.  As if the loss of anything resembling family hadn’t been enough, three weeks later, a royal decree that banned hunting went into effect.  The signature only read, “Your Esteemed Leader, His Majesty”.  Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.  The outer city gates closed permanently.  Dean had been staying at the Roadhouse when he heard the news.  Bobby and Rufus and all the other hunters could stay out in the Between Woods, but only if they were out there when the gates closed.  Anyone within the gates was required to stay.

Dean felt the first tear slide down his cheek.  In the beginning it would make him angry.  He’d snort and wipe that tear away like it was nothing.  He’d gotten some soil in his eye.  Then when the next would come, he’d scream and throw whatever he was holding halfway across his tiny plot of land.  He didn’t know what had happened to Cas, but he just couldn’t imagine his prince banning _hunting_ of all things.

Then the soil went stale.  Some of the alchemists and astronomers said it was because the kingdom had fallen ill to blight, or because the farmers had overworked the soil, but Dean knew better.   No hunters meant no one was killing the demons.  Demons meant demonic omens.  Crop failure was one of the most obvious signs that the occupational food chain had been disrupted, but there wasn’t a thing Dean could do.  Of course he’d tried several times.  But that landed him with fines and fees that he couldn’t pay off and that landed him in debtor’s prison, and then by the time he’d get out, he’d be so far behind on his farming duties that he’d end right back in prison.  He’d managed to work it off, but the escape plans grew less and less frequent until he just gave up.  It wasn’t worth it anymore.

He hated his hovel.  It was patchy and disgusting.  The cold air didn’t just seep in; it shoved itself in, uninvited and forced Dean to live with it.  It was barely better than sleeping outside on the freezing winter nights.  His bed was a straw mat.  He missed his bed at Bobby’s.  He missed his bed at the Roadhouse.  He missed his family and he hated himself.  He was alone.

The tears flowed freely now.

He remembered when his mother used to read him fairy tales there was one where a princess’s tears healed her blind prince’s eyes, and the notion that his tears might heal the ground flitted in and out of his head.  He cried harder at that.  It was so stupid.  How could he have not seen all of that coming?  He kept working.  Maybe if he exhausted himself enough, he wouldn’t be able to feel the cold or the self-hatred as he slipped to sleep.

The Roadhouse had worked for a while, but then the crops turned bad and the wells ran muddy, and soon taverns and shops and restaurants began closing one by one.  Luckily, the Harvelle’s had been lucky and managed to keep open just a little longer than the rest of the square, but it soon became obvious that people simply couldn’t afford to travel from one side of the kingdom to another, let alone buy a room in a tavern.

Dean could only thank whatever powers that existed that Adam had found a nice upper-class girl who was willing to take his hand.  Not that the aristocracy was doing much better than anyone else.  Dean had tried not to picture Dema when he heard about the corruption and dwindling wealth of the upper classes, but the image wouldn’t leave him alone.  What mattered was that Ellen and Jo and Pam had to sell the tavern to buy a smaller house.  Pam would do divinations for a small fee, and Jo and Ellen would bake sweets or portable foodstuffs for almost no profit.  There was nowhere for Dean to go.  Nowhere except Ellen’s old property before she’d married Jo’s father.

It had taken much too long to get the lean-to in a semi-livable shanty.  Since no one was allowed outside the walls, wood had become a precious commodity, and Dean had had to thatch the roof with canvas instead.  He didn’t deserve this.  He didn’t know in what way.  He’d been an amazing hunter, everything working in his favor only two years ago.  Hell, he’d been the prince’s consort!  He deserved much better than this shit hole!  But then, he’d abandoned his brother, fallen for a trap he was aware of, and been a piss poor human being in general.  God damn it, he deserved less than this.  He didn’t deserve any of what Ellen had given him.  He didn’t deserve it.

But here he was, chipping away at the earth because what choice did he have?

On his upswing, he thought he saw something in the distance.  As the black figure on the horizon moved closer, he realized it was a horse and rider.  Horses weren’t very common out this far into the lower quarter, so it caught Dean’s eye.  He decided it wasn’t worth fretting over.  If a nobleman wanted to see how the poorer half lived, it was none of his business.  And maybe Dean had some fucked up fantasy about spitting up jewels as he talked.  But the next time he looked up the horse and rider were closer.  Well maybe it was a tax collector then.  It was getting to be that time again, after all.  The crown always did need more gold during the winter.  How the metal was supposed to keep the cold bastards warm was anyone’s guess.  Another upswing, and this time the man was gone.  Dean grunted and went back to work.  It was a long time before he heard the clopping of hooves behind him.

“Hello Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just fair warning, tomorrow's update is gonna be really heavy and a little triggering! I'll be sure to remind everyone when I post it tomorrow though, so no worries. I hope.


	33. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cage itself had been misleading. Sam thought it was big, or at least bigger than the other cages in the zoo. Crowley seemed to be a big fan of illusions. There were two sets of bars: one which opened to the corridor with all their contained companions, the other a sort of window to the world of Alastair’s favorite past-time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is really kind of gross, and kind of triggering, so I'm just gonna warn everyone now. There are fairly explicit references to torture and incest, so if that's not your thing, skip down to the notes at the end for a quick summary with less gore and a little more meta. UwU

Sam hacked.  It had been like this for the last few weeks.  He wiped the blood off on his ratty trousers.  Or maybe they were his breeches.  It was hard to tell.  He’d barely sat up when the fits attacked him again.  He hacked openly now, with nothing to hide the blood and bile.  It dribbled out and down his chin, leaving a slimy trail that dried greasy on his face and throat.

“Pathetic,” was all his teacher had to say.  “Can’t even summon a particle of ice.”

“Th-the wards,” Sam pleaded desperately.

“And yet I can freeze you with no problem,” the soft voice whispered in his ear.  Sam knew this dance.  He knew how Lucifer liked to play with his food.  He hadn’t wanted this, but he had to admit it was better than getting constantly battered from the brothers’ fighting.  He’d rather try improving his magic to residual violence any day.  Or night.  Or whatever it was.  He’d long lost track.  The cold hand on his arm forced his mind back into itself.  “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

“I’m sorry.”  The grip tightened around his bicep, a chill creeping up his skin like frost.  “I’m sorry, your Highness.”

“Better.  But not good enough.”

“The wards,” Sam petitioned again.  “I can’t cast anything for the wards!”

“You can and you will.  Again.”

So Sam summoned what little strength he had and tried again, to no avail.

“I don’t know why I even agreed to this.”

“Let me rest, please you highness,” Sam gasped out around the blood.

“You think I learned by resting?  You’re lucky I haven’t given up on you and let Michael have at you.  Magic is strength.  If you tire, you are weak and therefore you die.”

“Why do you care if I die?”  Every once in a while this would happen.  Sam would feel a surge of self-righteous fury and fight back.  He saw Lucifer’s mouth quirk up into a small grin at the outburst.  Grabbing Sam by his dirty, unkempt locks, he yanked the hunter’s head back.

“I don’t.  But I’m bored.”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, your _Highness_ ,” Lucifer smirked.  Then he slammed his foot down on Sam’s hand which protested with terrible crunch.  “Heal it.”

“I can’t!” Sam screamed.  Lucifer’s hand was back in his hair and he threw Sam to the cold dirt floor of their cage.  It had taken a while, but the three of them, Sam, Lucifer, and Michael, had all gotten used to the dim cage lighting and the constant shrieks and screeches from the other zoo residents.  There was no schedule as far as Sam could tell, no way of knowing how long he’d been trapped here with these psychopaths Castiel so casually referred to as ‘brothers’.

Food came irregularly.  Sometimes Sam was literally starving by the time it finally appeared; other times he was sure he’d only eaten a few hours before.  The only regular thing about feedings was that it was always the same person who delivered it.  At first, Michael had refused to eat it.  Said it was tainted somehow.  The boy never spoke though.  His dull yellow eyes were lifeless and every motion he made was precise.  The only time he’d ever broken his mask was when Lucifer had grabbed him through the warded bars and shaken him.

_“What did you put in the food, you piece of shit!”_

The boy had only smiled wickedly.

Lucifer had thrown him to the ground with a scream that brought blood to Sam’s ears.  Then the small boy, who in Sam’s opinion was more of a monster than a boy, stood cautiously, turned, and left.  Words would never be enough.  Michael succumbed to hunger not too long after.  He woke up from a fitful nightmare after one of Alistair’s sessions so hungry he vomited.  Nothing came up, of course, since he’d been starving himself for weeks (probably), but he heaved and groaned and cried and contorted in his hunger.  He had crawled from his corner to the rotting pile of food and had only enough strength to roll his face in it.

Then he’d thrown it all up a little while later.  Sam had to admit that it would have been heartbreaking to see the princes reduced from their former angelic glory to sniveling, disgusting, garish husks of themselves.  It would have been heartbreaking.  It would have been pathetic, but Sam knew what they were like before.  They’d been ruthless, callous, and elitist, and if was how they ended up, well he wouldn’t say they didn’t deserve it.

He often wondered what he looked like now.  If Michael’s lustrous hair and soft skin had turned dirty and crumby with dirt and shit and vomit, and if Lucifer’s soft hands had turned dry and cracked, or his sky blue eyes turned cloudy with wrath, then what was to become of plain old Sam?  What _had_ become of him?  He knew was beard was getting ridiculous.  Michael’s had been in a similar state before his last session with Alastair.  Lucifer’s beard was patchy, but so was his skin.  Regardless of what he did, Lucifer’s skin kept flaking off, leaving nasty pustules and oozing sores.  Too much magic, Alastair would tut.  It wasn’t any use.  Only burning up his vessel.

“If you can’t heal it, looks like your hand will be useless for the rest of your life.”

“Is that supposed to help?”

Lucifer threw him down again onto the grimy floor.  A small shuffle from the secluded corner reserved for after sessions alerted them to Michael’s consciousness.  He let out a rasping breath and Lucifer was at his side in a second.

“Where is it worst?”  He smoothed the long ragged hair out of his brother’s face.

“…”

“Michael?”

“…”

“Your tongue…”

It was quiet for a few long moments.  Sam could feel Lucifer straining against the sigils carved into the bars and walls of the cell.  His power gathered as best it could, and then Sam could feel the icy spear of Lucifer’s magic trying to heal his mute brother.  This was it was with them though.  Whoever Alastair chose was spared.  The other two would fight or torture the other.  Sam liked Lucifer, and Michael too to some extent, but he wasn’t sure why, considering who they were and what they’d done.  He figured it had something to do with survival instinct.

“That bastard!” Michael cried once his tongue had grown back.  It was new and heavy in his mouth by the way he tripped over the words.  “I’ll kill him!  I’ll fucking kill him!”  Lucifer curled his arms around his brother and whispered soft comforts in his ear.  That had been Sam yesterday when Alistair had pulled out one of his eyes.  Michael and Lucifer had both needed to conjure to grow that back.  Eyes were particular.  They were special.  Needed more energy.  The two had ended up killing four or five rats as scrap power; unfortunate, but at least it provided some sanitary meals for a few days.

Michael cursed between his sobs and violent punches to the air.  Sam hobbled over to join Lucifer in comforting him.  He held Michael’s face in his hands.  As he brushed the long frayed strings of hair out of the prince’s face, only to get pushed away.

“Don’t touch me!” Michael shrieked. Then when Lucifer began stroking his hair, the older man began sobbing quietly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” over and over again.  Sam returned to his side and cared for him properly now, despite his throbbing hand.  It didn’t hurt so much now.

The Cage itself had been misleading.  Sam thought it was big, or at least bigger than the other cages in the zoo.  Crowley seemed to be a big fan of illusions.  There were two sets of bars: one which opened to the corridor with all their contained companions, the other a sort of window to the world of Alastair’s favorite past-time.  The shrieks and hollers of every single one of his victims fed from the source, then echoed off the rounded, uneven walls, and straight into the trios ears.  That was why it had looked so large.  There was a chamber in the back.  Alastair had actually broken Lucifer’s nose and the top of his skull by trying to pull him through the bars and into his play chamber.

There was water.  That hadn’t been an illusion.  But Sam was hesitant to drink it since it gave off a strange odor and he could not see to the bottom.  Besides, they had taken to using it as a waste disposal site ever since one of the lower servants took their chamber pot away for emptying and never returned it. They were animals now.  And the worst part was that they accepted it. What else was there to do?  Crowley would bring his favorite aristocrats in for a looksee at the once great Princes of Angels and Hunter of the Woods in their new environment.

“See?” he’d remarked once, “They are not people like us.  Celetans are nothing more than the inbred offspring of angels and the corruption of earth.”  The small group had laughed haughtily.  Michael had roared and flown to the bars.   Sam resisted the same reaction because he didn’t want to add fuel to Crowley’s argument.  Instead he barked insults.

“If you’re so concerned about inbreeding, you should probably go consult your wife.  I hear she’s an expert.”

That had been the last time he made a mistake like that.  Alastair taught him not to disrespect his king.  He never left the rack.  Alastair thought it was hilarious to leave him arms spread straight from his shoulders, feet together, screaming with a blade in his left calf and another in his right side, just between the ribs.  Then when he’d come back, he brought Lilith with him.  He kissed her.  He kissed her right in front of them all.  Michael was right.  Bastard.

“I’m sorry.”

That was the only thing they knew how to say now.  It didn’t do them much good, but it was all they had.  If they were sorry, there was a chance of forgiveness for whatever crimes they’d committed.  Lucifer had confessed.  He was the first.

“I was prepared to wage war on my own country.  My own family.”

“I’m sorry.”

It took Michael much longer to come around.  They were eating when he said it suddenly.  There had been a small argument of whether there was any feasible way to escape.  The consensus was that there was not.

“I was going to kill my brother for power.  I was going to kill one and imprison the other.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sam didn’t remember when he’d confessed.  It was so fuzzy, it must have been one of the periods where the staff conveniently forgot to prepare the monsters’ food.  All he really remembered was that next to the dull, manageable ache of hunger, he’d recently had his chest sliced open, then whipped mercilessly with Alistair’s favorite flail.

“I tried to kill my brother.  I killed another hunter, and I enjoyed it.  I liked watching the life leaving his body.  I felt strong because he was weak.”

“I’m sorry.”

Lucifer had reached out and rubbed his back gently.  It was so strange here.  He didn’t know if he was supposed to be the princes’ enemy, the outsider on their relationship, or their friend and companion.  And he felt that sometimes, they didn’t know either.

“Heal your hand Sam.”

“Lucifer I can’t.  I don’t have enough strength.”

“Then kill a rat.  Kill three.  You’ll need your hand.”  Michael was still wailing with clenched teeth against Sam’s palm.  He sobbed when Sam retracted it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just heal your hand.”

“I’m not strong enough.”

“I know.  Heal it.”

Sam had to force the life out of seven rats in order to fix his hand.  The bones in his hand contorted badly.  He didn’t have enough power to numb himself.  He watched through groans, his own and Michael’s, as the fragments shifted and crawled like weevils had burrowed under his skin.  He let out a strangled gasp when it was over.  Then he retched and vomited up nothing.  He spit blood onto the floor.  Some of it caught in his hair and his beard, but he didn’t care.  With his face lying in his own bile and blood, he passed out.

He was gone, yet still he hacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mainly deals with Sam, Lucifer, and Michael and their struggle to remain sane during their time in the Cage. They have lost track of time, since there is no sun or schedule. Food comes randomly, and Michael is certain that the boy who delivers it, the one with the yellow eyes has done something to it. The cage itself is open on two sides. The bars on one side show the rest of the zoo, while the other side, hidden from those who view the creatures, looks into Alastair's playroom. Alastair is almost constantly torturing someone, usually one of the three captive Celetans. Whoever he is not torturing fights. This time, Alastair has chosen to take Michael, and Lucifer turns on Sam. They have an arrangement where Lucifer will teach Sam to use his magic, and once Sam can use it well enough, he will help Lucifer escape. Unfortunately, the Cage is warded against magic, so it is impossible for lower magic-users like Sam to do anything. Even Lucifer and Michael must struggle to do anything but the simplest charms. Lucifer looses his patience and breaks Sam's hand. Michael returns missing his tongue, and Lucifer struggles to grow it back. Lucifer and Sam try to comfort Michael as best they can, as Michael and Lucifer did for Sam the last time Alastair chose him. By killing some rats and using their energy, Sam is able to heal his hand, and promptly losses consciousness.


	34. Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A single chorus of thought filled the void Dean’s mind now occupied in Castiel’s skull.
> 
> “I missed you so much.”

Dean stared up at him for a long time.  Like he was certain he was not seeing what he was seeing.  Castiel didn’t like it.  It was too distant, too cold compared to the looks they’d exchanged when they’d last been together.  He was covered from head to toe in dirt and grime.  His clothes hung like dead rats off his body.  The only thing that seemed clean was a piece of white cloth wrapped around his left bicep.

  Castiel loathed those years that had kept him away from his hunter.  He’d had so many romantic dreams of sweeping Dean up onto his horse and riding off into the sunset, like the fairytales.  Now, looking down at the man in rags, he began to think Dean might punch him out if he so much as leaned too close.  Just when Castiel was about to say something else, Dean went back to beating the icy dirt with a hoe.

“Dean?”

“Leave.”

“Dean, wai-”

“Leave here.  Now.”

“We’re not leaving without you.”  Castiel hated that tone.  That was the royal tone which Hester, Naomi’s replacement, had been beating into him.  He bit down and cursed himself silently.  Dean rounded on him, hoe still in hand.

“Don’t you dare.  Don’t you dare tell me that all this time you’ve been learning etiquette while I’ve been rotting in squalor.  Squalor, I’d like to remind you, that your idiotic policies have forced me into!”

“No, Dean listen-”

“No, Castiel, you listen!  I had nothing!  And what I did have, Sammy? A trade? My own self-worth?  That’s all gone!  Left just about the time I realized you weren’t coming to look for me.  I left everything I had in that stupid forest.  I gave up everything for you!  Everything!  And then how do you repay me?”  He lifted his tool into the air in a show of aggression.  “By ignoring me for two years and then waltzing right back in expecting me to give you a proper greeting?  Yeah, well that ain’t gonna be happening.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some crops to shove in the ground.”

“Dean…”  Anael had told him Dean might not appreciate his visit.  But this was far more important than just a visit.  The fate of the kingdom rested on this conversation.  He had been blind.  He waved Anael off; Dean loved him.  He’d listen when Cas explained what had happened all those years ago.  In his desperation to hold onto hope, he’d idealized Dean and shoved his hunter’s pride to the cellar of his mind.

“Dean please,” he tried.

“No.  No, Castiel.  That’s not how it works with me.  You don’t get to just show up with your fancy clothes and jewelry and your stupid royal manners and sweep me away.  I don’t need you.  I’ve been making it fine without you.”

That hurt Cas deeply.  Dean didn’t need him.  Maybe he should just leave.  He was almost about to do it when Dean spoke up again.  Softer this time with less bite.

“I don’t need you.”  His voice cracked.  Cas looked up only to see Dean looking down.  He was trembling.

“Dean…”  The ex-hunter tried to wipe away his tears casually, but ended up only looking angry at himself.  Then the first sob came out.  Cas hopped off his horse.  He met no resistance when he took the tool from Dean’s hand and dropped it to the ground.  Then he wrapped his arms around his hunter.  Dean let his head drop so his eyes rested on Cas’s shoulder and let out another shuddering sob.  He did not return the embrace.

“I hate you.  You’re a fucking bastard, and I hate you so fucking much.”

“Shhh.  You have every right to hate us.  We should have thought before coming to see you like this.”

“I thought about you every day.  I tried to link to you.  Every night.  And it never worked.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“I know.  You didn’t need me anymore you selfish piece of shit.”  He shoved Cas away.  His face was red and his eyes a little puffy, despite his attempts to seem like he hadn’t been crying.  “You’re probably only here to give me some sort of shitty compensation for my time and my brother’s life.”

Cas couldn’t help it.  He laughed.  Dean’s expression turned acidic, but he couldn’t stop the chuckles that left his mouth.  He reached out slowly once the irony wasn’t so humorous.  With a smile on his lips he gently stroked the side of Dean’s face.  His stubble was thicker than the last time they’d touched like this.

“What’s so funny, you royal piece of shit?”

“Well, we didn’t think it would be such a bad consolation prize at the time, but seeing you react to our presence just now, we suppose it is a pretty shitty consolation.”  When Dean kept glaring at him, he elaborated a little more.  “Dean, we came here to ask you for your hand.  In marriage.”

Dean stood there frozen.  Cas let him take as much time as he needed.  After a few moments of thoughtful, angry silence, Dean shook his head like that was impossible.  He pointed a threatening finger at the prince.

“I swear to God if this is some kind of joke, I will shove a fucking torch so far up your ass you’ll breathe fire.”

“Threatening a monarch.  For some reason we think there might be some sort of law against that.  You should be grateful that we favor you so much, otherwise you might be taking a very long rest in the castle dungeons.”  He let his small smile beam out at Dean.

“Swear you’re not lying.”

“We have no reason to lie.”

“Swear it.”

“Dean, would you do us the honor of letting us have your hand in marriage?”

“Of course you, piece of shit.”  And Dean, with tears still streaking his dirty face pulled Castiel into another embrace.  “I’m still fucking angry at you.”

“We know.  We’d be concerned if you weren’t.  But explanations can wait.”  Cas mounted his horse and held a hand out to Dean.  His hunter was hesitant.  Cas reached out with his mind.  At first, there was a little resistance, but then a flood of light and dust filled his mind.  Dean was tired.  He was so, so tired.  “First let’s get you out of here and back where you belong.”  Dean took his hand with confidence now and swung himself up behind his prince.  They were already in the crumbling upper class area when Castiel finally noticed Dean’s face on his shoulder.

A single chorus of thought filled the void Dean’s mind now occupied in Castiel’s skull.

_“I missed you so much.”_

~

Dean slept for a day and a half.  At first, Castiel was scared.  He thought perhaps one of the cooks had poisoned the meat and potatoes that Dean had shoveled down.  He’d thrown them up half an hour later, so it wasn’t implausible.  And what can Cas say?  After Metatron’s betrayal, he was a little paranoid.  Anael examined him and said he was only exhausted.  Hester collaborated which was comforting.  Cas was still mastering conjuring.  Healing and medicine were his next and final lessons.

Castiel stayed in bed with him.  At first, he’d thought he could just leave Dean in his large four-poster until night time, but he found himself desperate for contact with his hunter.  Also, Dean began shivering around mid-day meal, and it seemed a shame to leave him like that.  So Cas entertained himself with another book on domestic policies.

When Dean woke up, he was quite clingy.  Not that Cas was complaining.  He mumbled himself awake on that second day just after Inias had brought in afternoon tea.  Arm draped over his prince, he groaned at the light from the window.  He took in a deep breath of Cas’s shoulder and started laying kisses there.

“I thought I was dreamin’,” he murmured into the skin beneath his teeth.

“No.  No dream, Dean.  We want you here.  And we’re your prince.”

“Oh, getting all authoritative, are we?”

“The misfortune of being told you’re the most important thing since birth,” Cas shrugged.  Dean fumbled himself into a sitting position, letting the soft sheets fall from his bare torso.  He still wore that scrap of white cloth over his bicep, but in contrast to the clean sheets, Cas realized how not-white it was.  He reached out, not to remove it, but to touch it gently.  He knew Dean needed time.  He’d remove it when he was ready.

“So,” Dean sighed.  “What the hell happened?”  Cas replaced the book in his hands with the tea tray.  Dean really perked up when he saw it.  “Oh, awesome.  I’m starving.”

“Slow down.  Here only eat these,” Cas gave him some soft biscuits and thin crackers.  “I don’t really want you throwing up in our bed.  No offense.”

“O-our bed.”

Castiel felt the blood rush to his ears.  “W-well, only if you would still like to have us.  In marriage, I mean.”

“N-no, of course I do!”  He let out a soft giggle he’d absolutely deny later.  They must have looked so ridiculous stumbling and stuttering around one another like this.  They’d been in love a long time ago.  They were still in love.  They had the power to read each other’s thoughts with a blink, yet still, here they were blushing like they were courting one another for the first time.  “I-I want to marry you.  I just need, um, I’ve just never had anything like this.”  Castiel smiled awkwardly up through his eyelashes, and damn it, if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing Dean had seen in years, he didn’t know what was.

With a gulp, he returned to the cup of tea and starchy foods set before him.  “Right, well I don’t like sleeping in vomit either, so…”  He and Cas ate together in silence.  The cups clinked softly against their matching clay saucers.  Dean had never laid eyes on such lovely place ware before, let alone touched any.  He was careful to set the cup back with the gentlest hands he could.  Didn’t want to get thrown out for breaking a cup.  Again.

“It’s a long story.”

“What?”

“You wanted to know what happened two years ago.”  Cas took the tea tray and placed it on top of his book.

“Right, yeah.”

“It’s long and mostly very boring.  Except for the part where you come in,” Cas flashed him a quick bashful smile.

“Well, I like stories.  Just tell me the good parts.”

Cas took a deep breath and plunged right in.

“My father knew Metatron when they were young.  Our father was a prince, obviously, but Metatron was a lowly aristocrat’s son.  They were very good friends up until our father’s coronation.  Metatron was very jealous; he felt that the world owed him something, and believe our father was unfit to rule.  Soon after the coronation, our father married our mother.  When they took the thrones from our grandparents, Papa asked Metatron to be his scribe, despite the young man’s distance.  When he took the job, his tone changed back immediately.  He acted as though he and our father had been best friends the whole time.  Now of course, as king, our father never had time to spend with Metatron that didn’t involve production statements and tax projections, but they were cordial to one another.

“When we, uh, when I was born sometime later, even with the warnings from the mages, I suppose is when Metatron began plotting.  He was still disillusioned with his status.  He wanted more power, and those who came from better families ridiculed him.  I suppose I might have done the same in his situation.

“Regardless, he took us under his wing to train to be our brother’s scribe.  We had no magical abilities, and were therefore unfit for battle.  We, rather, I trained of course, and I learned strategy, but my real focus was on history, economics, and mathematics.  He knew one day my father would die.  He was just bidding time with me until my father was gone.  When father dictated his will those years ago, Metatron thought his time had finally come.  With me, the named heir, out of the way, he could focus on removing Michael and Lucifer.  He was too slow though.  Before he could act, they settled the agreement as best they could.  You know most of the rest from there, don’t you?”

“You get home and Lucifer takes off, you find us, we take you to Michael and then Dema and then everything goes to shit,” Dean sighed.

“Yes.”

“But what happened after that?  Why didn’t you come looking for me?”

“I-I couldn’t.”  Cas swallowed uncomfortably beneath the sheets.  “Believe me Dean, if I could have, I’d have kept you from even leaving, but-”

“Finish the story, Cas.”

“Right, well.  Metatron had been gathering troops.  Ever since my birth apparently.  He thought he was being secretive and keeping everything hidden from my father, but Papa knew.”  Castiel’s countenance grew grim, so Dean reached a hand out to sooth his shoulders.  Cas smiled back at his hunter softly.  “Papa knew all about Metatron’s ill-will towards him and our family, but couldn’t bring himself to remove an old friend so heartlessly.  He tried to warn me though.  The day we found the note on Michael’s bed, Papa called me to his chambers and told me everything I’m telling you now.  But I wasn’t listening.  Everything was messy and jumbled with Lucifer missing.  I was more focused on that issue than the seemingly insane ramblings of my dying father.

“But while we were off trying to find my brothers, Anael was being bombarded by an attack from Meatron’s army.  She managed to hold them off for about a week before they broke through.  In fact, when she opened the portal for us, she had been in the last unoccupied hall in the castle.  She used what magic she had left to bring us home even as she herself was struggling against attack.”  Cas paused a moment to breathe and think of his brave sister quietly.

“Is Ana alright?”

“She’s fine.  She and Hester have been helping us, er, me learn to control my magic better.”

“You sound ridiculous talking like that,” Dean teased.

“I can’t exactly help it.  It’s been engrained into my skull for the last two years.”

“Still ridiculous.”  Castiel huffed despite his small grin.

“Well, if you’d like me to finish,” Cas gave his hunter a pointed look, “He threw Anael to the floor in my presence, and I lost control.  My grace began pouring out of me, and for a moment, I thought there would be a battle; I thought I would win.  But Metatron had known what I was.  And he’d found a binding spell to use against me.  He was clever, there’s no denying that.  He sealed my grace in…” he pulled his collar down to show that swirling blue stone.

“Wait, where’d you get that?  You gave that to me,” Dean had spent hours searching and re-searching the streets when he’d realized it was missing.

“It fell out of your pocket when you ran that day.  He slit my throat and sealed all my grace in it, then threw us, I mean me and Anael into the warded cells in the dungeon.  No magic, poor food quality, torture at times.”  He felt Dean’s eyes tracking the large scar that marred Castiel’s throat, just over the Adam’s apple.  “I-I didn’t have Anael heal it completely.  It’s a reminder that strength cannot always save me.”

“Cas…”  Dean fiddled with the old blue brooch to distract both of them.  He wasn’t even magic but he could feel the power thrumming against his fingers.  He startled a little when Cas moved his arms to the back of neck.  He unclasped the gold chain he’d been keeping it on now, and held the jewel in his hand.

“This is my energy.  This is where I’ve been storing all my extra power every day for the last year or so.  I believe it belongs to you.”

“Is this some kind of wedding present?  Because I don’t really have anything to give you,” Dean squirmed.

“Dean, you are my wedding present.  I wouldn’t have cared if you were a lord, a beggar on the side of the road, or even if you were selling yourself to others.  You are enough.”  Dean licked his chapped lips and refused Cas’s gaze.  Instead of forcing Dean to see the truth in his words, Cas only pressed the gem into his hand and rested his chin on his hunter’s shoulder.

The room was quiet for a long time.  Dean held the pendant in a closed fist and nuzzled the back of Castiel’s head.  When Castiel grew tired of the silence, he said, “Gabriel ran.”

“What?”

“He ran.  When Metatron came at me.  I don’t know where he went or why he refused to help, but after you left, he wasn’t too far behind you.”

“Cas, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?  You did nothing to wrong us.”

“Then, um, I’m sad for you.  Losing a brother isn’t easy.”  Cas squeezed his hand, running his thumb across Dean’s knuckles.

“Well, with all the royal brats out of the way, Metatron ruled secretly.  He kept the people thinking that my father was still alive and ruling.  But he was the one who closed down the kingdom.  And he sanctioned arbitrary tax increases for everyone.  I don’t know how he managed it without revolts.”

“Too busy trying to make enough to eat,” Dean mumbled.  Castiel sighed into his skin.

“Yes, that’s probably a fair guess.”

“Well, what then?”

“Charlie showed up.”

“Charlie?”

“And Gilda.”  When Dean didn’t say anything else, he continued, saying, “Gilda must have opened a portal once they heard what was happening, and Charlie picked the locks on the cells.  Then Anael and Charlie fled while Gilda gave me my wish.”

“Wish?”

“Yes.  When Charlie explained how she was able to free Gilda, she, the fairy, was bound to us.  You recall that fairies are bound to those who show them-”

“Right, extraordinary kindness.”

“Exactly; well, she considered our aid to Charlie an act of extraordinary kindness towards herself as well.”

“So what did you wish for?”

Instead of answering, Cas squeezed Dean’s hand again.  The chain on the amulet tinkled quietly as Cas swallowed.  “I wanted to wish for you, but I had to get my grace back.  I hoped that with my grace, I could defeat Metatron and come find you.”

“And you did, right?”

“Yes, but at the time I’d wanted to find you right away.  But I didn’t know where to look, and then the Roadhouse was gone, and I had so many duties to learn, and policies to oversee, and Charlie and Gilda left so soon after that.”

“Cas,” Dean brought his other hand to lie over their intertwined fingers, “I understand.  I haven’t forgiven you yet, but I understand.  Sometimes shit happens, and there’s nothing you can do.”

“I wanted to find you so badly, Dean.”

“I wanted that too.”

They were silent together for a long time.  Once Dean’s breath evened out and he didn’t respond to Castiel’s gentle prods, Cas unwound their hands and brought Dean’s head to his chest.  He was not tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so good news, this is about as angsty as it's going to get for Dean an Cas. As in from here on out, they will have a loving, healthy relationship because the world needs more of those. UwU  
> Also, the story will probably focus on them for the next few chapters, so fluff and fun for a while after last week's gore and torture. Hooray!


	35. A Time of Great Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t pray often. In fact, he remembered the last time he’d prayed, and that was almost twenty years ago, the night after his mother had died.

The stiff white collar was suffocating.  Dean had been pulling it and readjusting it to make it more comfortable all morning, but each time he pulled it out of the starched white tunic, a servant would bustle by and stop to fix it back into its place.  Dean hated being fussed about.  It was so strange to him, to have others pay so much attention to him, but Cas said it would only be for today.  Then Dean could dress himself however he liked.  Cas had also closed their connection for the most part.  That was almost as frustrating as the chaffing around his neck.

Dean knew there was the whole superstition thing, but he’d gotten used to having Cas in his head all the time.  It had been a fast five months in the castle.  They’d even been connected through the King’s funeral.  It had been a solemn and dragging ceremony.  Many of the kingdom’s blighted upper class played at mourning over the closed coffin.  It’s hard to be sorry for someone else when you were struggling to eat, Dean had reminded Cas.  Cas’s eyes stayed glued to the floor regardless.  Dean was across the cathedral near the chapel with the rest of the lower class citizens.  Cas had fought Hester on that decision, but Dean had agreed.

“If we don’t want the kingdom getting suspicious, we need to keep Dean out of the public eye,” she’d reasoned.

“I want him by my side, though.  He is my fiancé, isn’t he?  He should be with me.”

“You don’t want the populace to find out that at your father’s funeral?  If a commoner is seen in a place of honor at a ceremony like that, there will be questions, and then you’re suddenly not sympathetic to your father’s death, and then you’re unfit to rule, and then there’s a revolution.”

“Dean?  What do you think?”  Obviously Cas wanted him to defy Hester, but Dean couldn’t.

“Uh, I don’t know about the revolution thing, but I think she has a point.”  There was a slow roll of Cas’s disappointment in his head.  “I’ll be fine with the little people, Cas.  Don’t worry about it.  Plus,” he tapped to his temple, “I’m not gonna shut you out of here.”

Cas sighed in resignation, then nodded.  “It seems I’m out-voted, then.”

So while Ana, Cas, and Hester all stood at the front of the royal cathedral, just in front of the altar with the bishop, Dean crushed himself in with the wailing crowds of rag-wearing common folk.  It had smelt bad, but then maybe it hadn’t.  He had been getting used to the sights and smells of the castle, after all.  Being so close to so many unclean, depressed farmers brought up bad memories, which he’d carefully kept from Cas.

But this was different.  Cas had told him that he didn’t want either of them in each other’s heads today.  In fact, for the last week, Cas hadn’t gone to bed at all, leaving Dean the solitary body in the big bed they sometimes shared.  Dean refused to call it their bed.  Not until they christened it, that was.  He felt himself smiling unconsciously at that thought.  It was so soon.  He’d heard the some of the younger maids tittering about it earlier, blushing under their white hats and stiff aprons.

“They’re both so handsome!”

“I never thought I’d see the day King Castiel would take a partner!”

“Let alone a man as handsome as Dean.”

“Their children would be so beautiful.”

“Whose eyes do you think their little girl would have?”

“Who says they’d have a girl?”

Dean chuckled to himself and tried pulling the collar out of his tunic again.  The whole costume made him uncomfortable, to be honest.  It was too pure for his body.  White with gold trim and a few small vines of green embroidered into the tunic hem.  Everything had been made years ago.  Apparently, it had been one of the first things Cas had done once Gilda and Charlie had freed him.  That idea did nothing to settle the dizzy feeling in Dean’s stomach.  Cas had been thinking of him, planning on marrying him since before he was captured.  And now it was happening.

Or at least it would be happening.  Inias had woken Dean up before dawn that morning for the cleansing ceremony.  That had certainly been an experience.  He thought he only had to take a bath.  He’d screamed when one of the maids had gripped his arms and lifted them over his head.  Another  servant began scrubbing his chest and arms, much to his displeasure.  Inias had only laughed a bit at Dean’s expression of humiliation and frustration, but hadn’t done a thing to help.

“I can bathe myself, you know,” he grumped out at Castiel’s hand.

“This is part of the marriage ceremony.  Castiel has already had his scrubbing, as is customary.”

Dean didn’t miss the humor as he said it.  Dean let out a sarcastic laugh.  Then, when the servants were finished with his upper half, they all filed out of the baths with a bow to Inias.

“What’s going on?  Where are they going?”

“It is not considered polite to handle what belongs to the King.”

“What?  That didn’t stop them from- oh.”

Inias raised his eyebrows and smiled.  Then he turned on his heal and walked out of the steamy bathroom.  Dean’s cheeks were already pretty warm from the hot bath water, but they grew hotter from his embarrassment.  He washed his legs and feet in silence, before attending to more personal matters.  He replayed Inias’s  words over and over in his head.  “what belongs to the king…”

Surprisingly, the thought of belonging to Cas didn’t upset him that much.  He actually liked it very much.  Mainly because he knew Cas belonged to him too.  That was what this whole thing was about.  Belonging to each other.  And after today, the whole kingdom would know it.

He could still remember how nice and soft the water was.  It smelt like lilies and pine and water.  It was hot and pulled the tension out of shoulders in a way he hadn’t known was possible.  He fiddled with his collar, which a servant had just fixed again.

After the bath, Inias had returned and rushed him off to get dressed for the early morning feast.  Cas was sitting at the head of the table, like usual, and for a moment, Dean hadn’t seen how it was different than usual breakfast.  Then he noticed the plates and silverware, and the banners on either side of the main entrance.  And no one had anything on his or her plates.  Ana and Hester were sitting on the sides of the table with their hands in their laps, and heads bowed.  Dean had felt rather naked in his ceremonial clothes, but felt a little better when he saw that Cas was similarly dressed.  A thin tunic that hid nothing, along with a simple pair of cream-colored breeches; no shoes, no gloves, nowhere to hide.  He swore he caught both Hester and Ana giving him side glances as he entered.

Inias guided him to his chair at the opposite end of the table, and Cas sat down again.  Cas was absolutely radiating happiness.  Dean couldn’t help but smile as the bishop said the ceremonial prayer over the last meal before, as he said, “two would become united as one and rule the land in a single spirit.”

It was all rather over done in Dean’s opinion, but who was he to question the tradition of Celeta?  After all, he technically wasn’t even a citizen, a formality that Hester purposefully forgot on his records.  No one needed to know.  There was no other noise during the meal.  That was also a custom.  Cas even ate, which surprised Dean, but he figured that was just pomp and circumstance as well.  All the food was bland and white: rice, potatoes, mashed corn, along with a sweet kind of gruel, and a mellow pudding.  Dean was going to be starving by the time the wedding was over.  In fact, as he thought about how early his breakfast had been, his stomach growled loudly.  The maid fitting his parlor slippers giggled and hid her face.

Dean just sighed and leaned back against the cream stone walls in the bridal room.  He’d been holed up here since the rather meager feast.  People he’d never seen before came in.  Hester announced them as they entered and listed off the articles of the groom’s gown they would be placing on him.  Apparently they were the closest relatives of the crown.  Barons, Ladies, Dukes the lot of them.

“Uriel, placing the chamois and belt.”

“Rachel, placing upon the groom the vest.”

“Samandriel, placing the socks upon our groom.”

It was yet another highly invasive, slightly uncomfortable ritual, but Dean bore it with as much grace as he could.  Honestly, he’d have been happy with a marriage in a shack with a brother presiding over them, just so long as he got to see Cas and spend the rest of his living days with him.  All _this_ was just silly.  But he supposed that’s what he volunteered for when he decided to marry the king of a nation.

After the last person, a smug-looking man by the name of Balthazar had placed the outer tunic over Dean’s shoulders, Hester informed him that the maids would take care of the rest, and then the wedding would begin.

With his real shoes finally on, and a man pulling his hair this way and that, all while tutting at its shortness, he finally felt the jitters returning.  He glared at the man messing up his hair.  He’d let it grow for the ceremony, just like Cas had, but apparently it still wasn’t long enough for this guy.  Cas had said it was fine though, so Dean ignored the “royal hair man”.

Finally the servants left.  Inias was nowhere to be seen, and even Rachel had retreated from the room.  He was supposed to sit and reflect on what this marriage was going to mean to him.  He’d already decided that.  He’d been mulling thoughts like that over for upwards of two years now.  Instead, he spent his time alone praying.  He didn’t pray often.  In fact, he remembered the last time he’d prayed, and that was almost twenty years ago, the night after his mother had died.

“Whoever, or whatever’s up there, please.  Send Sammy a message for me.  Telling him I’m on my way.”

He thought about Charlie and Gilda, hoping that they were somewhere safe.  He’d assumed so, since Gilda was so powerful, but he offered his thoughts up anyway.  He thought about Cas’s smile and the way his ears got pink when Dean looked at him a little too long.  He thought about how grateful he was for all this, even if it was just formality on top of ceremony on top of unnecessary.

He just wished Sam could witness it.

He’d named Bobby as his shearer, and he had been grateful when the old creaky hunter had agreed, but it was usually done by the bride or groom’s eldest sibling.  There would be a Sam shaped hole in the ceremony, Dean thought to himself in the small room.  His musings felt like they bounced and echoed off the walls.  He jumped when Inias opened the door slowly.

“Are you ready, sir?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Please follow me.”  So Dean walked with Inias down a thin brown corridor.  Dean recognized it vaguely as the corridor leading to the cathedral’s third chapel.  He had to admit, even if church wasn’t really his idea of a good time, this chapel was beautiful.  If he had to pick a favorite chapel out of the twelve, it would be this one.  “Are you alright, sir?”

“Huh?”

“Well you had a passing look about you,” said Inias.  Dean didn’t miss the smirk the servant tried to hide.

“Nah,” Dean tried to sound nonchalant, “just weird, pre-marriage thoughts.”

“Of course, sir.”

Dean felt the music start up just as Bobby appeared at his side.  The three of them, Bobby, Dean, and Inias stood firm staring at the simply wrought door before them.  Recognizing the traditional marriage hymn begin, Inias opened the door with great ceremony, then stepped back to let Dean and Bobby through, but just before the small gathering could see, he reached over and fixed Dean’s collar.

“Good luck, sir.”

“Th-thanks,” Dean managed out.  Then the great chords bellowed out for the third time, and Dean recognized his cue.  He stepped out of the dark corridor, Bobby just behind him, and set his sights on the altar ahead of him.  Cas stood beaming at him.  Dean didn’t even know he was returning the grin until his cheeks began burning.  He walked slowly up to the altar.  Letting out a deep breath, he finally came to stop, facing Cas and his mother.  Dean tugged on his collar and tried to hide his blush by looking down.

“Dearly Beloved,” the bishop began, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of two young men…”


	36. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here,” Dean said quietly. “Put your hands like this in my hair. Don’t move them. Do whatever you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for gay????

Castiel was exhausted.  He knew the marriage ceremony was supposed to be taxing; there was a joke in the upper class circles that “If you could manage the entire marriage ceremony without killing your fiancé, you’d make it ‘til death do ye part!”  Or at least that’s what his father would always say.  Regardless of the unfunny joke, Cas hadn’t realized just how tired he was until now.  And now was supposed to be the best part.  He lay there waiting for Bobby and the Queen to escort Dean into their room for the last act of the marriage.  It was a little nerve wracking to be waiting again, and with getting up at the crack of dawn, and then the religious ceremony, and then the party afterwards, he was bone tired.  He could feel his eyelids drooping every once in a while, and fought to keep staring at the soft canopy he’d had installed above the bed.  He might not have been so tired had he not used so much of his grace.  He’d pushed a lot through Dean during their ceremonial kiss, as a sort of wedding present.  The look on his face afterwards had been priceless.  Cas smiled to himself as he thought of it again.

He sat up, the soft covers whispering gently around him.  He thought he heard a tentative knock.  There it was again, but this time the door creaked open slowly.  Dean’s head appeared, his eyes wide and eyebrows raised, as if he expected to find the room empty.  The two gave each other sheepish smiles across the room, and Dean shut the door behind him.

“Hello Dean,” Cas said soflty.

“Hiya, Cas.”

“Come to bed.”

So Dean shuffled slowly towards him, glancing up every now and again.  They both still had their marital tunics on, and the gold bands around their foreheads, placed there by Bishop Jim.  Dean finally settled himself onto the side of the bed, hands in his lap.  It finally struck Cas that Dean was nervous.  Why on earth would he be nervous?  Cas reached out for Dean’s hand, and his husband startled at the touch.

  1.   He liked how that sounded when it sounded like Dean.



“What’s the matter Dean?”

“What?  Nothing!  Nothing’s  wrong.”

“Then come here.”  Dean turned and crawled onto the bed a little better, but still felt rigid and held back.  “If nothing’s wrong, then why are you so nervous?”  Cas rubbed his hands along Dean’s scarred shoulders, pausing on the left one where his handprint stood bright and pink under the tunic.  Dean shuddered, and relaxed a little, shoving his nose into the juncture between Cas’s neck and shoulder.

“You’ll make fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?”

“Because it’s really cliché.”  Cas just pulled away and quirked an eyebrow.  Dean felt a little foolish.

“Dean?”

The hunter sighed.  “I’ve had so many dreams like this, I’m afraid I’ll wake up and I’ll be back in that hovel.”  They sat there on the bed for a long quiet minute.  Then there was a sharp pinch on Dean’s back.  “Ow!  Cas, what the hell?”

“You’re not dreaming,” the prince chuckled softly.  Dean huffed out his own breathy laugh and relaxed a little further into Cas’s neck.

“God this is so gooey, I think I’m gonna puke.”

“What did I tell you about vomiting in our bed?”

Had Dean been paying attention, he might have made some witty retort, but he was far too busy planting his lips on the thick of Cas’s neck.  Cas leaned his head away to give his husband more room to nibble on.  They sighed in tandem, both finding the experience pleasurable.  Eventually, Dean had put so much of his weight on Cas that they both fell into their fluffy white sheets.  Dean would deny that he giggled into Cas’s ear, but Cas secretly tucked the sensation of Dean’s bliss deep in his mind.  Their connection was slowly returning, mainly at Castiel’s prodding.  He could feel Dean’s breath on his hair and turned the moment tender.  He reached up gently and stroked through the long strands of hair at the nape of his husband’s neck.

“Are we just going to hug on the bed, or am I finally going to get to see you naked in real life?”

Cas chuckled again at Dean’s quiet bluntness.  After some awkward shifting, Dean propped himself up on his elbows.  Their legs stayed intertwined, and they stared at each other for another long moment.

“I think it’s fair that you see me bare.”  Dean smirked down at him.  “But only if can see you in a similar state of bareness.”

“Well how can I say no to that?”

“I don’t think you can.”  Dean leaned up and bent into a hunched kneeling position.  His hands skimmed around Cas’s belt slowly.  Cas sighed and let his head fall back.  His mind flashed briefly to the erotic dreams they’d shared in the forest so long ago.  He had desperately wanted to give Dean everything they’d imagined together, but so far, Dean was doing all the work.  Not that Castiel was complaining.  He figured he’d have plenty of time later for making Dean fall apart.

The belt clicked open in the back and Dean tossed it over his shoulder nonchalantly.  He grinned down and said, “I cannot believe the amount of layers they put us in.  This is going to take years!”

Cas smiled up and laughed.  “It’s tradition, Dean.  And as I’m sure you can tell, royals are all about maintaining tradition,” he said with a playful quirk of the eyebrows.

“Oh yes, of course!  Giving your kingdom to the youngest son is so very traditional,” rebutted Dean.  He couldn’t help but preen at the languid smile Cas gave him.

“Actually,” Cas startled him, “speaking of tradition, we need to cut you.”  The prince began sitting up, and Dean scrambled to the side so he wouldn’t fall off the bed.

“Wait, what?”

“The blood custom.  You know, the marital bed sheet?”

“Ugh, why can’t I cut you?”

“Because I’m the one that proposed.”  Cas pulled a small knife from inside one of the night tables.  He gently unsheathed it.  “Let’s just get this over with.  Then we can undress.”  Dean sighed but held his arm out.  Cas nicked the soft underside of his husband’s arm with great caution.  As the red surged to the surface, Dean began rubbing the tacky liquid on the pure white sheets.  When there was enough, Cas took Dean’s arm once more and passed a careful thumb over the cut, leaving only an expanse of unmarred skin in its wake.

Their eyes met once again over Dean’s arm, and they grinned bashfully at each other.  Then Cas reached over and embraced Dean.  Dean gasped when he heard the click of his own belt, followed by the sound of cloth rumpling.  The heat of Cas’s hands bled through the under-tunic .  Dean quickly decided that he could be just as sneaky, and bit onto his prince’s ear.  It was Cas’s turn to gasp.  Cas pulled away, and Dean was about to question why when his chin jerked up.

“Cas!”  Dean floundered in the marriage tunic pointlessly trying to pull his arms out of the arm holes.  Cas laughed to himself.

“Stop flailing, Dean!  Dean!”  The hunter huffed angrily but obliged.  Once the heavy white and green cloth was discarded over the edge of the bed, Cas continued on with the vest, and then the trouser drawstring.  Dean’s breath was coming heavily, and had he not been so excited about those soft but strong hands on him, he might have laughed about how easily Cas could work him up.

“Wait, wait…”  Cas let him up and he lazily untied the boots and pulled off the white woolen socks various servants had insisted he wear.  Then Cas was suddenly on him again.  They kissed slowly and deeply for a long while.

Dean was barely aware of the rest of his clothes falling to the bed side, and by the time he had noticed, Cas was bare-chested in front of him.  Dean thought perhaps he might feel self-conscious at the sharp blue gaze above him, but all he could think was ‘Cas…this is Cas…’ to which he received a strong pulse of ‘yes, and I am yours.’

“Do I even want to know what happened to your collar?” Cas murmured as he passed a hand over Dean’s temple and into his hair.

“I think it got lost during the dancing,” the hunter chuckled back.  Cas smiled softly down at him, then slowly closed the distance between them.  He placed a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips and pulled away.

“We should probably discuss the logistics of this, considering I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Dean laughed outright and pulled Cas back down for a deeper kiss.  “Yeah, probably.”  They lay like that for a long while, pressed together from lips to toes exchanging breath and thoughts silently.  Every sharp pang of love Dean felt leave him was received with joy and reciprocal love; it echoed through him and he lost track of what he was supposed to be doing.  “Well, I cleaned myself earlier,” he finally managed to gasp out after a particularly long kiss.

“So did I.  That is the custom,” sighed Cas.

“No, I mean, I _cleaned_ myself earlier.  Like for this,” Dean tossed his hand to the gesture.

Cas’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”   He rolled off Dean, but pressed his body into his husband’s side, letting his head rest on Dean’s chest.  “Then I suppose you should be on the receiving end?”

“I guess so.  I mean you’ve never had sex before so…What I mean is that I’m, uh used to it more, and I want to make you…”  Dean mumbled into silence.

‘I want to make you feel good,’ Dean’s mind screamed at Cas.  The prince ran his hand over Dean’s chest.

“Dean, I would be happy if we went to sleep at this very moment and never consummated.  I have lived my entire life without sex.  What makes me happy is that you are here and I am yours.”  Dean rolled his shoulders in discomfort.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, it’s weird.”

“It’s weird to love you?”

“I dunno Cas, C’mon, let’s do what we’re here for,” Dean deflected.

“As you wish I suppose.  You’ll have to direct me.”

“You really weren’t joking, were you?”

“Why would I joke about my lack of experience?”  Dean just grinned and shook his head.

“Just take off your breeches would you?”  Cas quickly obliged, and Dean rolled over to face him.  “Come here.”  So Cas pressed into him again, feeling Dean’s arousal  through the soft linen breeches he still wore.

“I feel like perhaps you should do the same,” Cas kissed the words into Dean’s neck.  Instead of verbally responding, Dean ground their hips together, causing Cas to gasp in shock.  This was definitely new to him, and the thought of it sent excitement tingling down Dean’s spine.  The fact that he could feel Cas’s reactions in his head made it even more satisfying.

“Shh, don’t worry Cas, we’ll get there.  But first we gotta take care of you.”  Cas nodded and tried to catch his breath.  While he was still disoriented, Dean flipped him on his back and crawled over him.  Cas was only half hard and that was just unacceptable.  Dean began working kisses down Cas’s neck and chest.  Cas moaned in surprise when Dean gave a little extra attention to his nipples.  “I take it you like that too, then?”

Cas nodded rapidly and breathed, “Y-yeah.”

Dean smirked into Cas’s chest and continued his way down to Cas’s stomach.  He held each of Cas’s thighs as he laved at the prominent bones of Cas’s hips.  Cas’s skin tasted like a combination of sweat and the floral smell of the baths.  When Dean chance a glance up at his husband’s face, Cas had one arm thrown over his eyes and his other hand clenching in the sheets beside them.  Dean clucked at Cas’s responsiveness, but gasped when the full brunt of Cas’s incoherent pleasure reached his mind.  He’d never felt Cas like this, all jumbled and confused, but happy.  The only thing that made sense was his name being thought over and over and over.  Dean almost swooned at the feeling; it was like being drunk, heady liquor doing its job.

Dean focused and tried to clear his mind a bit better.  He sucked bruises into Cas’s inner thighs, avoiding Cas’s naked length.  He was harder now, but still not quite where Dean wanted him.

“Please…” came Cas’s voice.  Dean looked up again.  Cas’s eyes were trained on him, pleading with him.  And who was Dean to deny a begging king?  He gently took Cas’s head into his mouth and gave a light suck.  Cas’s breath punched out of him.  Dean was kind at first, doing everything slowly so Cas could enjoy it, feel every little suck and lick, but soon Dean began speeding the pace up.  He took Cas further and further into his mouth and began sucking harder.  Cas could feel his hips trying to rise to meet Dean’s lips, but the strong hands there kept him down.  As Dean bobbed his head for the first time, Cas writhed under him, crying out to the stillness around them.  Dean took him completely for a few more strokes before pulling off and sucking more hickies onto Cas’s hips and stomachs.  He bit at Cas’s chest and kissed his husband again and again on the lips.

“Here,” Dean said quietly.  “Put your hands like this in my hair.  Don’t move them.  Do whatever you want.”

“What do you-”  Cas didn’t get to finish because Dean took his erection back into his mouth and swallowed around it.  Cas didn’t need an explanation to understand anymore.  At first he tried to hold back the urge to push Dean down farther, but his resolve faded after four bobs of Dean’s head.  Dean moaned into the exchange of power and Cas took it as encouragement.  He pressed Dean’s face into his face faster.  His climax came up on him so quickly he barely had time to say anything.

“Dean, I’m-” he tried to let go of his harsh grip on Dean’s hair, but pulled towards him.  Cas could feel his husband’s nose on his pubic bone as he came and the idea made him gasp out into the darkness.  Dean gave another suck on Cas’s spent cock and then let it fall out of his mouth.  Cas just lay there gasping, since he couldn’t even formulate words.  He felt like he had left his body, like he was wandering about the room on the air.

When he finally came back to his body, Dean was pressing kisses into his neck.  He rolled toward his hunter and wrapped his arms around him.  “You are incredible,” he said.  Dean chuckled.

“I just know how to give a decent blowjob is all.”

“That was well above decent.”

“Just wait until next round, how about that?  Then you can decide what’s decent.”

“Next round…”

“What?  You think we’re done here?  Let me tell you, Cas, we’re not going to be sleeping much tonight.”  Dean gave Cas a little tweak on the nipple, and the resulting moan made Dean grin unabashedly.  “Oh it’s gonna be fun figuring out what makes you moan like that.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Yes, but you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is the first time I've ever like REALLY tried to write smut stuff. So like, I apologize if it's awkward or stilted or laughable, but I tried so there' that I guess?? And I'm like really asexual too so I was pretty much laughing the whole time I wrote this thinking about using words like "ding-dong" or "lovestick" and it was really hard to not use those words because wow, I'm a fucking nerd
> 
> Anyway, Depending on the reaction to this one, the next chapter may be more smut, or maybe not. I've gotta think about it.


	37. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I-I just want to see your eyes,” Cas whispered into the space between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to the positive reaction to the last chapter, here's some more badly written smut by an asexual virgin girl whose only source is other gay fanfictions what's up
> 
> Anyway, enjoy I guess. It's pretty sappy so have fun

Dean had decided that his mission on this night was to keep Cas from coherent thought for as long as possible.  Cas was sitting up against the carved headboard of the bed, Dean on his lap, grinding his rear down on Cas’s erection.  For a while now, the only thing Cas could say was Dean’s name, so Dean figured he’d been doing a pretty good job so far.  He broke away from Cas’s chest to ask, “You remembered the oil, right?”

“…oil?”

“Yeah, the oil.”

“Hmm, I-” Cas grunted and huffed out a few breaths to try and focus himself.  “Bedside table.”

Dean crawled off his husband and rummaged around on the night stand on the right of their bed.  He finally found the vial of oil, and rolled back towards Cas.  “Okay, this is how it’s gonna go.  I’ve gotta get myself ready, and you need to learn how to prepare for this kind of thing.  So you’re gonna listen and I’m gonna show you how to do this.  Keep your hands to yourself.”  All Cas could do was nod.  Dean loved he exhausted color in his cheeks and how his eyelids hung heavily over his blue eyes.

Dean coated his right hand fingers in the oil and shimmied out of his breeches.  He could feel Cas’s heavy eyes on him, and his own cheeks went hot.  He leaned back, putting his weight on his left elbow, then reached around with his lubed hand to jerk himself to full hardness.  Leaving a slick trail in its wake, his hand slowly descended to his entrance and he gently rubbed a generous amount of oil there.  He heard Cas swallow thickly and glanced up.  The king’s jaw was clenched and his hands gripped the white sheets tightly.

Dean sat like that for a while before trying to breach himself.  He hissed at the stretch.  It had been a long while since he’d done this after all.  He heard Castiel gasp as he watched.  He could practically taste the anticipation in the air and it made him grin as he pressed the finger further in.  Cas’s thoughts had turned from desperate need to bleeding curiosity.  He couldn’t think about anything other than Dean and whatever it was he was doing.

Cas had read about this kind of thing, of course, but seeing it happen in real life rather than in his mind made him confused and impossibly aroused.  He wanted desperately to reach out and do this for Dean, but Dean’s instructions to observe somehow managed to resonate in his head.  He kept his hands in the sheets and observed.

Dean pulled out his finger and pushed it back in, panting heavily as he slipped a second finger in.  He tried to work quickly, feeling Cas’s resolve straining.  He scissored his fingers to open himself up.  He was hyper aware of Cas’s fingers twitching in the sheets.  He quickly added a third finger, estimating that that was probably the thickness of Cas’s dick.  He twisted them in his hole and groaned at the feeling, then tried to find that spot that made his toes curl.  When he did, he cried out, and heard Cas gasp again.  He smirked to himself, knowing how hard it could be to look and not touch.  He had to admit, Cas had incredible self-control.  A few more presses into himself and he figured he was ready.  He slid his fingers out and crawled towards Cas.

“Alright your highness, how do you want me?”  Cas’s half-lidded eyes grew wide as he found Dean much closer to him than he remembered.  “You want me to ride you?  Or you want me on all fours beggin’ for it?”

“I-I, uh-”

Dean leaned over Cas and got close to his lips.  “I suppose you could take me from the side? It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.”

“I-I just want to see your eyes,” Cas whispered into the space between them.  Dean’s eyes softened and his smile went from provocative to sweet at the words.

“Cas, you big ol’ sap.”  Dean kissed him, pushing his tongue against Cas’s and running a thumb over his cheek.

“You’ve done most of the work up until now.  It’s your wedding night.”

“So you want me on my back?  I should have pegged you for a missionary kind of guy.”

Cas’s cheeks flushed brighter even in the dim light of the quiet room.  Dean pulled him over and on top of him.  Cas looked down and brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“You look very handsome with longer hair.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a pain in the ass.  I’m gonna cut it tomorrow now that the ceremony’s over.”

“I think I’m going to keep mine this length,” Cas mused.

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“ ’Cause, when it’s longer it gets all ruffled when you run your hands through it.  It’s like you just got back from having a really hot round of sex.”

“Oh.”  Dean grinned up at him.  “So, uh, I just-”

“Stick it in.  Yeah.  I’m all yours, Cas.”

“Alright,” Cas did his best to line up with Dean and press in.  Dean hissed as he entered.  “Am I hurting you?”

“No, don’t worry, I’m fine.  Underestimated you though,” Dean joked with a pant.  “Go ahead, I’m ready.”  So Cas pushed farther in and groaned at the feeling.  He liked having Dean beneath him, tossing his head like this.  When he felt  his hips pressing against Dean’s rear, he waited.

“Cas, really, I’m fine.  Have at it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah Cas, I’m sure.  C’mon, fuck me already.”

Well Cas wasn’t going to argue with that.  So he pulled out slowly, then slammed back in.  Dean shouted in surprise, and Cas immediately stilled.

“Are you alright?”  He was so afraid he’d hurt Dean, but then confusion filled his mind.  Dean had thrown an arm over his face and was laughing?  Why was he laughing?

“Cas, Cas!  It’s okay, you just hit me dead on with that one.  Jesus Christ, you’re a natural.  I’m not gonna last too long if you’re this good on your first try.”

“I-I just…”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, okay?  You’re doing great.  Really make me scream.”  So Cas swallowed his fear again and pulled out until the head of his cock caught on Dean’s rim.  Then he pressed in again, a bit slower this time, and Dean moaned into it.  The heat made Cas feel fuzzy in his head, like he was just waking up or barely asleep, but he was definitely awake if the noises coming out of Dean were any indication.  He built up a rhythm, moving his hips to meet Dean’s, and the friction made him gasp.  Dean’s mouth had been amazing, but being able to watch Dean’s face screw up in pleasure and his jaw go slack while Cas thrust into him was even better.

Then he had the idea to take Dean’s member in hand and give a few tentative strokes.  Dean cried out with a gasp and then moaned into the touch.  Cas remembered how Dean liked it from all those years ago when they’d first explored each other in their dreams, and he used his knowledge as well as he could.  It was getting increasingly difficult to concentrate with Dean wrapping his legs around his waist and pulling him deeper with each thrust.  It should have been embarrassing to be making and hearing such lewd noises in the silence around them, but both Cas and Dean were beyond hearing.  They were too caught up in feeling and touching to care.

Dean’s grip on the back of Cas’s neck tightened and he finally managed to open his eyes and look up at Cas.  “I’m close.  I won’t last,” he whispered between groans.

“I think I am too.”

“Don’t pull out.”  Cas leaned down to kiss Dean squarely on the lips again, speeding up his thrusts and forcing his breath out his nose.  He twisted the hand pumping Dean’s dick and Dean pulled away gasp out.  Something warm and wet splattered between them, and when Cas looked down to see Dean’s release coating their stomachs, he couldn’t help but moan.

“Come on Cas,” Dean sighed.  “Come on.”  Cas counted three more pumps into Dean’s body before his vision blurred and a taut string snapped within him.  He almost collapsed on Dean as he came.  Dean ran his hands through Cas’s hair and pressed kisses onto his ear.  “That’s it, breathe for me.”

It was better than when Cas had come earlier, probably because Dean was floating along with him.  They lazily let lips and tongues wander over each other’s neck and shoulders.  They said nothing else as they drifted off to sleep, Dean pressing Cas’s back to his chest and wrapping a strong tan arm over his king.


	38. Open the Gates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s the matter?”
> 
> “I should have come for you sooner.” There was more than a little melancholy in his voice.

 

Dean woke first the next morning.  He was actually a little surprised that Cas had slept at all, but chuckled at the thought that he’d been tired out from last night’s activities.  He shifted so that instead of resting foreheads together, breathing the same awful morning breath, Cas had his head resting on Dean’s chest and arms wrapped around his torso.  The action must have woken up the king since he began nuzzling closer to Dean’s neck.

“I love you…” he mumbled into Dean’s shoulder.  The hunter couldn’t help but smile and pull Cas closer.  Cas let out a low grumble making Dean chuckle.  Suddenly, the newly-crowned king didn’t feel quite so pliant against his chest.

“What’s the matter?”

“I should have come for you sooner.”  There was more than a little melancholy in his voice.

Trying to dissipate the cloud over Cas, Dean said, “I don’t know, you came pretty quickly for me last night, princess.”  The comment could have been seen as flippant, or disrespectful, but Cas laughed outright and Dean felt his cheeks burn with how wide his smile was.  Cas’s laugh was a sweet thing for Dean, with a rough gravel and soft echo.

“I am never going to hear the end of that name, am I?”

“Well it fits you well, don’t you think?”

“I think I fit you well.”  Dean balked, then laughed loudly.  They sighed against one another.  Cas nuzzled Dean’s neck and Dean hummed as he drew circles on Cas’s back with a lazy thumb.

“I love it when you tak dirty.”

“I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing,” Cas sighed innocently.

Dean smiled and watched how his thumb made soft divots on Cas’s back.  Again, Cas’s muscles tightened in an uncomfortable memory.

“Cas, whatever it is you’re worrying about, let it go, alright?  Enjoy this.”

“We need to retrieve your brother.”

“Cas!” Dean moaned petulantly, “Don’t talk to me about my brother when I’m thinking about screwing you!”  Cas chuckled, even though his back still felt tight with worry.  Dean smiled sadly with how much weight this issue held.  “You should laugh more often, you know?”

“Should I now?” Dean huffed through his smile as he rolled on top of Cas, pining his arm on either side of his head.

“Yeah,” came the lethargic reply.  He leaned down and felt Cas’s pulse under his lips.

“I should have you arrested for disrespect towards your king.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?”  Dean bumped his nose against Cas’s with a mischievous grin.  “Having me all tied up, bound and gagged?”

“How you manage to turn everything I say into an innuendo never ceases to amaze me.”  He might have continued talking had dean not cut him off his a slow kiss.  When they broke away, Cas gasped out, “But yes, I have had a few less than passing thoughts about you in similar situations.”

“Cas, you kinky son of a bitch,” the man above him teased.  Cas used what little leverage he had coupled with dean’s surprise to flip them over, positioning himself above the hunter carefully.  “Yet you don’t seem too upset by my suggestions.”

“Well who can resist the will of the one and only king of Celeta?”

“You seem to be forgetting that you are a king now as well,” Cas pointed out with a gentle hand through Dean’s hair.  He leaned in to take Dean’s ear lobe between his teeth, waiting for dean to make some sort of witty retort, but it never came.  Cas eased off to get a better look at his husband’s face.  Dean’s mouth hung agape, his eyes struggling to understand.  Cas waited a moment just as confused as Dean looked.

“Holy shit, I’m royalty,” Dean said quietly.  Cas was about to question him when Dean’s look of befuddlement morphed into one of amazement.  “Fuck me, Cas!  I’m royalty!”  He tackled the other king into the sheets with a laugh.

“Had you forgotten?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.  You know, focusing on other things.”

“Of course,” Cas sighed as Dean flicked his thumbs over Cas’s nipples.  You know, we’re going to miss breakfast with our family.”

“Hmm…” Dean hummed into Cas’s neck, “Well, looks like they’ll just have to start without us.”

“I suppose so.”

Dean grinned against Cas’s skin and placed a quiet kiss there.  “I’m a little sore from last night, so-”

“I hurt you?” Cas demanded.

“What? No!  It’s just been a while.  It’s always a little uncomfortable after getting a thoroughly pounded like that.”  Cas still looked a little sheepish about the idea.

“I-I’m sorry if I got a little out of control,” he stuttered.

“Are you kidding?  For your first time, that was pretty damn impressive, Cas.  I can’t wait to see how well you do once you’ve got a little experience.”  The lecherous grin above Cas made his cheeks light up.  He sent a small amount of embarrassed chastisement towards Dean to which Dean responded by pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout.  Cas rolled his eyes and leaned up to catch those ridiculous lips in a kiss.

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you love me anyway.”

“God help me, “ Cas glanced toward the ceiling, “but I do.”

“Love you too,” Dean whispered as he leaned down again.

They missed breakfast.

~

“Oh, you’re awake,” Anael commented as she looked up from her book.  Cas had been looking for her for upwards of an hour.  And the only reason he was looking for her was so that she could tell him where Hester was.  It was very important.

“Yes.  I’ve been awake for a long time now.  Do you know where Hester is?”

“You know Jo wanted to go send Inias to wake you two up, but Mother made a scene, going on and on about true lovers and how you needed your alone time.  It was rather humorous to see Ellen and Robert react to Mother’s eccentricities.”

“O-of course,” he stuttered.

“How was your wedding night, if you don’t mind me asking?” she smirked.

“I-I-”  He honestly had no way to answer that.  He felt his ears heating up and his stomach flipped.

“I’m joking, Cassie.  I’m not like Mother or Gabriel.  I’m satisfied with the knowledge that you two are so in love.”  She flicked her hair and turned back to the book shelf and replaced her book in its spot.  “Now what is it you need?”

“Do you know where Hester is?”

“Oh, I think she’s been trying to reorganize the kitchen staff from the wedding.  So my guess would be the pantry or just outside the kitchen.  Maybe even the smoke house or stables.”

“Thank you, Anael.”  He was about to turn and leave when she called after him.

“Why are you looking for her?”

“We have a proclamation to make.”

“Oh my, first official day as kings and you’re already making proclamations together.  Whatever happened to the honeymoon?” she teased again.

“Yes, well, we can’t exactly take our honeymoon without making this decree.  So if you’ll excuse me,” he bowed slightly.  Anael returned the motion and went back to perusing the shelves.  Castiel left her in the silence and went in search of Hester.

He found her after almost another hour of searching.  She was out behind the smokehouse lecturing some of the lower chefs about the proper menu now that celebrations were over.  Most looked about as bored as Hester sounded, but it was a necessary adjustment.  Cas stayed near the back of the group so as not to disturb the lecture.  When Hester finally dismissed the group, Cas emerged from the younger chefs and startled his advisor.

“Your Highness!  How can I help you this morning?”

“Good morning Hester.  Dean and I have a proclamation to make.”

“Of course.  Lead the way, Your Highness.”  They walked back towards the entrance to the kitchens, Hester trailing just behind her king.  “May I ask where the king is?”

“He’s speaking with our family,” Cas said with a slow blink.  He liked the way those words rolled off his tongue.  It was easy to consider Dean’s family part of his family and vice versa.  From the wedding party, it had been obvious that Anael and Jo got along splendidly, and that Bobby and Inias and Balthazar had a good time joking about Dean and Castiel together.  And of course his mother could be friends with anyone, if she could keep her odd interests from clouding the conversation.  Cas smiled to himself.  He was as happy as he thought he could ever be.  “Arranging for our honeymoon.”

“I see.  And where are you planning on going?”

“That’s what I need to speak with you about.”

They were silent until they reached the throne room where Hester’s official podium stood.  Castiel had made a few decrees in his time as king, but the stack of parchment still stood mostly untouched.  Cas sat upon his throne.  He’d had the one Metatron had used removed and dismembered for firewood for the people of the lower quarter.  Castiel’s throne was simple, made of horn and soft bows of wood.  The set was upholstered with a quiet piece of royal blue velvet, but beside that, the chair was rather plain.  Castiel liked it.  After all, Dean had made it and presented it was a wedding present the day before the ceremony.  He hadn’t had much time to sit in it, but now he relished it.

“Are you ready, Hester?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I, Michael Luke Raphael Charles Castiel, Crown on the City of Light, Celeta, do formally decree that the gates of our wonderful city shall open once more.  Hunting will resume, woodcutters shall be allowed their trade once more, and travel to other kingdoms shall be free to all…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the beginning scene of this chapter was actually one of the first scenes to get written. I think I had this written around the same time I wrote chapter 5 or 6 of Once Upon A Time. And it was the only section of this fanfic to be physically written out, as in with a pencil and paper. I've been waiting for this scene for seventeen years oh my god.


	39. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All my life,” the prince cried quietly, “All my life I have been the little brother. I have never had what was owed me. All I wanted was to be like my brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter is kind of trigger for anyone who's been in an unhealthy relationship, mainly because Lucifer doesn't know how to have healthy relationships and has shifted his codependency from Michael to Sam hooray
> 
> Anyway, strong female character comin' up so hella

Sam knew he was dreaming when he saw the color yellow.  The only color that existed here was red, and even blood looked gray and unsaturated.  The air stole the color reducing every hue and flash to a shade of white or tinting everything into a void.  So anything else was certainly unreal.  Yellow made Sam look twice.  And that was how he came to know her.  She snuck in everyday with food that made Sam’s mouth water and his mind reel.

“It is winter,” she’d whisper as she passed the cup of soup to Michael.  He took it with shaking hands.  “It is the last market day of the third week in winter.  You have been here for almost two and a half years.”

Michael wept deeply, seasoning the soup with his tears.  Lucifer kept Sam locked in an embrace when she came with food and news.  He’d growl in Sam’s ear as if to warn him more than her.  They referred to her as Sun Maid, since she gave them no name.  The seventh week she came to them, after Michael had used what strength he had to heal Lucifer of a missing nose and liver, and Lucifer took the food, hissing at Sam to stay back near the piss pool.  He stayed in the shadows like directed, but he could still see her light eyes watching him with pity.  Normally, he’d scoff at the idea of pity, but he found that he didn’t care anymore.  The fact that such a beautiful creature would look upon him with anything but revulsion made him fall deeper in love with her.

Lucifer, great thinker that he was, asked who she was and why she was doing this.  She settled on the ground, drawing her gray cloak tighter around her slim form and sighed.  “Her Grace Princess Megara has sent me.  She has not forgotten you, nor the oath of your brother.  I do not know the extent of the issue, but she has recently been in contact with your brother and is waiting, much like yourselves.”

“What do you mean?” Lucifer demanded.  The Sun Maid whipped her head around as a crash echoed through the zoo.

“I must go.  I have said all I can.”  She stood and took the scratched wooden plates from Lucifer’s hands.  “Wait; Time rewards those who wait with patience.”  And with that she was gone once more, using her gray cloak to hide the rays of her golden hair.  Sam sighed into the moist air.  He felt the stubbled skin over his cheek bones and wished he knew what he looked like.  Alastair had skinned his face many days ago, and when Lucifer had regrown the skin it had been clean and soft, a curse in a blessing.

“Women,” Lucifer hissed.  He spat on the ground.  “What does she mean “wait”?  What has my brother to do with Megara?  He left us to die in this hell.”

Sam wanted to contradict him, say that of course Cas would come back for them, and if not, Dean would.  Sam was sure of it.  He would wait, even though he could feel the hope leaking out of his soul everyday with the blood Alastair took from him.  Sam said nothing, just ran an absent hand through Michael’s hair.

“Come here, Sam.”  So Sam stood on shaky legs and stumbled towards Lucifer, who held the last stuffed roll for him.  “Eat.”  He wrapped his arms around Sam and sunk to the floor with him.  Sam took small bites of the roll and wanted to cry as he felt the taste of pork assaulted him.  He hadn’t eaten real meat in years, or at least he hadn’t eaten _good_ meat in that time.  Lucifer’s wall of a chest was reassuring against Sam’s back and he let his head loll back onto the prince’s shoulder.  Lucifer stroked Sam’s hair, sighing.  “You are mine, you understand.”  Sam didn’t respond.  He was too busy nibbling on his food, trying to make it last, and thinking of the sun who had risen to give this food to them.  “You understand you belong to me,” he repeated, “That woman can never have you.  She cannot give you what I can give you.”

“Lucifer…”

“No!  You belong to me!”  His voice cracked and Sam turned his head as best he could, trying to get a better look at his cellmate.

“I belong to the Between Woods.”

“No!” Lucifer cried.  That was when Sam felt the first traces of wetness on his shoulder.

“Lucifer,” Sam breathed softly.

“All my life,” the prince cried quietly, “All my life I have been the little brother.  I have never had what was owed me.  All I wanted was to be like my brother.”  Sam felt a pang of sympathy for him.  He knew exactly what that felt like.  Dean had always been able to get away with things Sam would never dream of attempting.  Years of hand-me-down toys and clothes and armor.  “Everything I have has belonged to him before me.  It’s not really mine.  I want something to belong to me!” he wailed.  “You belong to me!”

“People cannot belong to one another,” whispered Sam.

“If you don’t belong to me, then nothing does,” Lucifer whispered through his tears.  His grip on Sam’s arms tightened.

“Lucifer.”

“No.”

“Lucifer.”   Sam realized then that the prince was a child.  He was not the strong man of the kingdom everyone believed him to be, nor was he the vicious traitor Sam had believed during their journey to Dema.  Lucifer was a child who had never had a family that cared, and the only one who had, Michael, was just as emotionally stunted and repressive.  Sam saw himself in Lucifer, and as the child-prince pushed his eyes and tears into Sam’s bare neck, Sam let himself indulge him.  He brought a tentative hand to Lucifer’s cheek, wincing at the pain of raising his arm in such an awkward manner.

“You will say yes,” Lucifer mumbled quietly.  Sam let him have the thought and stayed silent.  The sun brought felling back into his life, but shone light on things he would rather have stayed hidden.

~

Dean placed the warm blue brooch at his neck and tightened the stupid ascot as best he could.  He hated dressing up like this.  He was fine putting on armor, but dressing up as a king felt kind of silly.  Cas had told him now that the kingdom knew the thrones were full, they would expect to see both of them as kings.  It didn’t really make Dean any more comfortable, but he understood what Cas was trying to say.  He drew his overcoat closed over his vest and other layers of constricting fabric.  Cas’s arms wrapped around him from behind, so he leaned into his husband’s chest.  The fact that Cas could take most of his weight without struggling made Dean smile to himself.  It was reassuring.

“You look wonderful, stop telling yourself otherwise.”

“Right, you’re still in my head,” Dean sighed.

“Only for as long as you’ll let me stay there.”  Dean turned around to look Cas in the eyes.  “Don’t worry, Dean.  We’ll save him.”

“But it’s been almost three years, Cas.  Who’s to say he’s not dead?”

“He is not dead.”  Dean exhaled loudly and rested his chin on Cas’s head.  Cas ducked a bit to make it easier for him.  He laughed softly into Dean’s neck.

“What’s so funny, eh Princess?”

“Our families would be rather put off if they found out we weren’t going to be spending our honeymoon solely in the Between Woods.”

“They’re already put off with the fact that we _said_ we were spending the honeymoon in the woods,” Dean chuckled too.  They had lied to everyone, but not out of spite.  If they had told anyone what they planned, there was no doubt in either of their minds that their family would try to talk them out of it.  So Dean had told everyone that they would be going to the Between Woods to repair his parents’ old shanty home and spending a month or so out there.  He figured that would give them enough time to plan an infiltration and allow for delays should something go wrong.  Cas had complemented him for his quick wit and impressive skill, to which Dean had tried to shrug off.

“Regardless, I’m still glad that I’ll be going out there with you.”

“Aw, Cas, you big sap.”  Castiel just grinned and let his hands wander.  Dean yelped and pushed away a bit.

“Did you just grab my ass?”

Cas stepped away and headed towards the door.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.  You might want to finish up though.  Inias is almost done loading the horses.”

“Whatever you say, Your Highness.”  Cas stepped out and Dean went back to buttoning up his coat.  “We’re coming, Sammy.  We’re coming.”


	40. Healing Draught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Abaddon has been building troops up, but she’s very selective about who she lets follow her. She doesn’t want any betrayal. She says she’s almost ready to take him on.”

Dean sighed and leaned against one of the trees encircling the small clearing.  They’d been riding for hours it seemed, and he needed a break.  The forest hadn’t changed a bit since Dean had been away.  There was still a whisper of evil that hung on the breezes and the leaves and grass pulsed with energy that was not Cas’s.  It was strange that he could differentiate between energies now.  He let his hand touch the warm blue stone at his throat.  He let out another soft breath as he felt Cas poke at his mind.

“Is something wrong, Dean?” Cas’s question echoed the tendrils of concern that Dean latched onto.

“I’m just a little apprehensive is all.”

“I see.”  And that was what Dean loved about Cas.  He didn’t try and make Dean feel better, just accepted what Dean said without judgment.  Dean smiled and used his shoulder to push off of the tree.  As he stepped closer to his husband, Cas edged towards him to close the distance.  “We will free him you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said with a small kiss to Cas’s neck.  He finished the sentence in his head before he could stop himself, and Cas gave him an understanding look.

“I know you think he is dead, Dean, but I feel in my bones that he is alive.”

“I believe you, but it’s…it’s Sammy.  I can’t fail him again.”

“And we won’t.  I know how hopeless you think it is,” Cas smiled softly and ran a hand over Dean’s temple, “But we must continue on.”

“No arguments,” Dean smiled back.

“Are you ready to ride again?”

“Yeah, I think so.”  They hopped up into their saddles, each on an unnamed kingdom horse.  “Cas, do you think Baby is still alive?”

“I don’t think the stable masters of Dema would be willing to put down such a magnificent horse.  She’s still alive as well.”

Dean grinned quietly to himself and flicked the reins.  They would hopefully reach the fairy caves tomorrow morning.  The forest was much louder now; with the small reduction of hunters, especially Sam and Dean, the monster populations were skyrocketing.  Castiel could sense a wendigo huddled in its nest about a half league from them, a nest of four vampires a league to their left, and a rakshasa headed towards Dema a few acres ahead of them.  It was uncanny for Dean to be able to sense things like that.  Cas only gave him those three since they were closest, but Dean pushed the feeling away once he understood.  It was like his mind was a well and these creatures were standing around the edge eddying for a chance to dip their claws in him.  He shivered and Cas sent him a small pulse of apology, to which Dean snorted.

“I don’t mind knowing, but I don’t want to _always_ know, Cas.”

“Sorry, I’ll remember that.”  Dean smiled and gave Cas a mental kiss.  With a quick discussion between their heads and horses, they picked up their pace to a quick trot onwards.

~

“What is your name?” Sam asked desperately.  The girl almost dropped the bowl of gruel she held.  Her eyes reminded him of the sky.  Though he might not remember the sky that well.  Maybe it wasn’t blue.

“Goodness!  I thought you were mute.”

“What is your name?” Sam rasped out again.

“Jeska,” she responded.  She pulled a strand of hair out of her face and gently set the bowl through the bars.  Lucifer lay prone near the back of the cell with Michael leaning over him, trying to regrow part of his brother’s skull.

“Jeska…” Sam said carefully.

“You are Samuel, correct?”

“Sam.  Just Sam.”

“Sam.  I don’t have much news today.”

“I don’t care.”  He looked up to her sunny hair and sky-filled eyes and pleaded.  “Just tell me something.”  She looked about the hall of beasts.  When she was certain they would not be discovered, she settled down, arranging her cloak under her.

“I don’t know what to say,” she smiled sadly.

“Tell me about your mistress.”

“Princess Megara?  She is the best mistress I could ever ask for.  She is nothing like her family and only desires peace.”

“What about Crowley?  Has he started an attack on Celeta?”

“Ha!” she barked out.  Then she covered her mouth, trying to protect her modesty.  “Crowley has been too busy trying to keep Abaddon from stealing his throne to worry about expansion.”

“The knight?  She’s heading a coup?”

“Trying to.  She’s been building troops up, but she’s very selective about who she lets follow her.  She doesn’t want any betrayal.  She says she’s almost ready to take him on.”

“So you’re part of her circle, then?”

“I can’t talk about that until you’re out, Sam.”  She had a small knowing smile playing about her lips.

“That’s fine. I-” he broke off to cough into his arm.  She took a flask from her cloak sleeve and reached through the bars for him.  She flicked the cork of the bottle and its lip to his.  “Thank you,” he sighed.  His throat felt much cleaner and his voice came out normally now.

At his surprised look, Jeska said, “Healing draught.  Strong one, too.  It will work on your organs, but it will wear off eventually.”  She looked at the bars separating them wistfully.

“You’re a healer?”

“No, just an apprentice.  Meg made that one.”

“I see.”

“She wants you out of here as much as you do, but she can’t yet.”

“I know.  Politics and such.”  His comment made her smile, and he counted it as a win when she bit her lower lip.

“We are working on it though.  Both of us.”

“Thank you.  Could you…could you maybe ask to see if she knows about my brothers?”

“Yes, of course.  Here, eat.  I’m afraid I must go, but I will be back tomorrow with more news.”  She shoved the bowls of gruel at him and told him to keep the flask and give some to his cellmates.  Then she was gone.

Michael wondered at how the potion was strong enough to work against the wards.  When Sam said Meg had made it, he nearly spit it out.  They forced Lucifer to drink some, even though he was still unconscious.  Sam dreaded the next day.  It was his turn again, and he didn’t know how he was going to get through another session with Alistair.  He sighed and forced himself to sleep through the nervous wolves in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeska is an old-timey version of Jessica for anyone who's confused.


	41. Knight of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As tempting as that offer may be,” Meg let her hand wander over Abaddon’s shoulder and then to the back of the neck, “I’m afraid I have a call scheduled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so lesbians are really important to me like you have no idea, so last minute change to add as many lesbians as I can oh my gosh this fic was getting way too manly so here have some hella sick ladies who are really queer and willing to use their bodies to gain power because why the hell not I just really like when ladies are dynamic and realistic instead of all about the man donger sorry

“Jessy,” Meg sighed, “how are the boys doing?”

“They’re well, I think.”

“Eating better I hope.”

“Yes, much better.”  Meg sat salaciously on a reclining chair, which was usual for her.  Jess plopped down on the princess’s bed.  Normally, that might have been seen as improper and grossly presumptuous, but over the last year, with what Meg had had her do and all that shed learned about the princess, Jess knew Meg wouldn’t care.  As it was, the princess just sighed again and rolled over, not caring that her skirt hitched up to reveal her thin petticoat and bloomers.

“And the healing draught?”

“Sam was very thankful.”

“Sam…” Meg mused.  “He’s the tall one, isn’t he?  The moose Crowley’s always talking about?”

“I think so.  It’s hard to tell when he’s so hunkered down in the Cage.”

“Hmm.”

“He asked me for news.”

“What did you tell him?” She let her arm flop over her torso as she rolled to face Jeska .

“Only what he needed to know.  That you had a plan, that he’d be free soon.”

“Hmm.  Good.”

“He, uh, he wants to know if you have any news of his brothers.”

“Of course I do.”

“Oh.  Um, could I tell him?”

“I you knew you could, but you don’t, so you can’t,” grumbled Meg.

“I understand.  Secrets must be kept,” Jess nodded.

“I don’t like keeping things in the dark.  It’s so messy and I end up feeling like the Cow.”  Meg smiled when Jess giggled to herself.  Meg liked Jess.  She might have even considered her a friend if she wasn’t so hesitant about having one of those.  At first, she thought having a lady-in-waiting, especially one from the moors, would be more of a burden than a blessing, but Jessy had been a pleasure to be around.  And then when she’d accidently laughed outright at one of Meg’s jabs at Crowley, Meg knew she could be trusted.  No one had ever laughed at her jokes the way Jess did.  And she was smart too.  When Meg had proposed her plan, Jess had suggested bringing Abaddon in.  Meg was all for the idea, but didn’t know the best way to ear the knights trust.  Jess took care of that as well.  And then there was the way Jeska would get all careful when she asked for favors, like Meg would deny her.  It was rather cute.

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him his brothers are alive.  They are looking for him.”

“Are they?” Jess asked cautiously.  Again, cute.  Meg sat up and peered into her vanity mirror.  A smile drew her cheeks up.

“Yes, in fact, they are.”

A knock startled both of them out of their conversation.  Jeska shot up and ran to her chest in the corner of the room.  She began undressing and throwing her skirts and shirts into a pile.

“I’m assuming that’s Abaddon?”

“Yes, we have another negotiation meeting today.”

She stood and went to the door.  Before she took the handle, she turned back to her servant and said, “Remember, she cannot know about-”

“The reinforcements, I know.  That’s why you won’t tell me anything about them.”

“Perfect.  Don’t ruin my sheets if you can help it.” 

“Of course, Meg.”    Meg smiled and nodded softly.  She opened the door to reveal a tacky red smile and fiery hair.  Abaddon stood before her with beady black eyes and pointed teeth.

“Oh, Knight.  I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Of course you weren’t.  That’s why I’m getting the kingdom, little girl.”

“Couldn’t have said it any better myself.  I trust you have an arrangement with my lady?”

“That I do,” the woman drawled.  Their cordiality was completely fake, the air between them tense.  Meg had made no effort to make it this way, but she had a feeling that this was just how Abaddon was.  That was how she’d lived so long.  It was how she’d gotten so far within the military ranks; she was a suspicious, angry woman with a sense of wrath that knew no bounds.  Meg feared her in her silences and pauses, but let her word convey no tremble of will.  Meg would never know how Jess could keep a woman like that so under control, but it just added to the list of her positive traits.  “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting with both of you.  After all, it seems rather counterintuitive to meet with the lady of the one I’m really negotiating with.”  Abaddon lifted a black leather clad arm to rest on the doorframe next to Meg’s head.  She was so tall and loomed over the princess evilly.  “What you say we cut out the middle-woman, and then bring her back between us?”  Meg stayed as strong as she could.

“As tempting as that offer may be,” she let her hand wander over Abaddon’s shoulder and then to the back of the neck, “I’m afraid I have a call scheduled.”  She let her breath float over Abaddon’s smirking red lips.  Her charcoal eyes flitted closed and Meg almost let herself slip into the fantasy.  “Maybe next time.”  And she ducked under the knight’s arm, barely escaping a kiss she didn’t know if she wanted.  She heard Abaddon laugh quietly as she sped down the stone work corridor, but didn’t dare look back until she heard the door sigh shut.  The she threw herself to the wall and took a few reaching breaths.

She hadn’t been lying about the call, but wouldn’t it be more convincing if she were there?  Did she want to be there?  She didn’t feel any real sexual tension between herself and Jessy, and the tension she felt between herself and Abaddon was only the fleeting kind that comes with the rush of knowing how powerful Abaddon was and what she could do.  No, Meg decided, she didn’t want to be there.  She needed to keep that appointment more than she needed to sort out her feelings.

~

“Jesus Christ, Cassy!  How can you be constantly connected to such a noisy mind?”

“Meg,” Cas warned in that deep gravely tone of his.

“Shut up, Meg!  Just because you don’t think very often doesn’t give you the right to insult those that do.”

“I suppose you think you’re clever, Dean,” she teased.  “Unfortunately, I said it was a noisy mind.  That means it’s cluttered, not necessarily full.”

“Meg!” Cas sighed.  Meg laughed into the call link, swirling her finger in the bowl of her blood absently.

“I trust that everything is working well?”

“Perfectly.  And you’re getting your thief and her fairy, as promised?”

“Of course,” Cas replied.

“How’s Sam?” demanded Dean.

“Alive,” was all Meg could say.

“Alive?  That’s it?”

“I haven’t seen him, Dean.  It’s too dangerous, but my lady-in-waiting has been helping all three oafs build their bodies back up.  What Alistair and Azazel have been putting them through isn’t exactly pretty.  I’m doing the best I can at the moment.”

“Well your best isn’t-”

“Thank you Meg, your generosity is greatly appreciated,” Cas cut in.

“You’re welcome.  How far away are you?”

“Two days.  We’re waiting for Charlie and Gilda.”

“And I trust that they’ve been in contact?”  She could feel the residual of Castiel’s mind affirming her question as well as Dean’s buzzing mind trying to pin something or other down.

“Yes, we’re using the hunter Rufus’s home as a base of sorts.  We’ll call when we meet up with Charlie and Gilda, and then when we’re at the gates.”

“Perfect.  Two days then.  Don’t keep me waiting, Castiel.”

“You’ve waited long enough, Meg.”  She couldn’t help but smile down into the goblet at that.  He had always been so kind to her.  It was good to know that kindness wouldn’t disappear, eve after everything he’d been through.  The connection dissipated.  Meg threw the contents of the chalice into the empty fireplace in the chamber.

~

Dean dropped to the mattress with a soft _fwump_.  Cas took a moment to admire his backside, but quickly began setting the bags under the night stand beside the dusty bed.  It was strange to think that the last people to occupy this bed had been Dean and Charlie almost three years ago.  Cas patted the gray woolen sheets reverently.  Dean mumbled something to him, but Cas didn’t catch it.

“You’ll have to speak clearly, Dean.”  He was about to put a soothing hand to Dean’s back when his husband passed on a rather dirty thought.  “Oh, I see.”

Dean turned his face out of the covers with a dry cough.  “I just figured we’ve got time before Gilda and Charlie show up.”

“Yes we do.”

“And we should probably put that time to good use, don’t you think?”

“Probably.”

“And Rufus won’t be using this bed for a long while.”

“That’s very true.”  Dean raised an eyebrow at him without lifting his head from the bed.

“Well then?”

“Don’t you think we should air out the sheets and pallet first?”

“Oh.  Yeah you’re probably right.”  Dean curled up and stood on his knees.  He leaned over and planted a kiss right between Cas’s eyes.  “What did I ever do to get such a smart husband?”

“And here I thought you married me for my power.”

“It was actually for your dashing good looks and don’t you ever forget it,” Dean teased back.  Cas smiled and let his lips find the crook of Dean’s neck.  “Hey if you wanna air out these rags before we get at it, you better stop that.”  Dean’s voice had gone soft and low, but Cas reluctantly pulled away.  Before Dean could get up off the bed though, Cas lunged forward and kissed him so soundly they both fell back into the sheets in a cloud of dust.  Just as things were tarting to get a little heated, the door slammed open out front.

“Put your pants back on newlyweds!  We’re early!”

“Charlie,” they both groaned in unison, but then as they met each other’s eyes, they burst into a fit of giggles.

“Come on.  We have company,” Dean pulled Cas by the arm out to meet their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so heads up, next week I'll be posting two 500 word samples for potential future projects. Basically, I'll explain the AU and give a little taste of what the writing style would be like, and then based on the responses, I'll choose one for a summer project. There'll be more details next week with the first sample, but I just thought I'd give everyone a heads up!


	42. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your brothers are alive,” she started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first option for voting is a season 9 re-write. Honestly I was really disappointed and confused by this season. There was too much going on, too many sub-plots and continuity errors and sexism/racism/homophobia and general lack of diversity this show is known for. It would be a 22 or 23 chapter fic, each chapter corresponding to an episode. Each episode would be around 3,000-5,000 words long.It would update once a week and pick up immediately from the season 8 finale. It would probably begin in the first week of June. I already have a few ideas for episodes, but there would be some room for reader suggestion. I would bring back a lot of old characters (i.e. Garth, Bela, etc.) but also include characters from this season, like Bartholomew and Dorothy. The sample can be found in the End Notes.

“So you both understand the plan?”

“Well, it’s not really that complicated especially when you’ve got a fairy and an angel on your side,” Charlie waved her hand in the air.

“Abaddon is not to be trifled with.  She is older than all of us if the texts are accurate.”

“She’s got years of military and strategic experience, and she’s ruthless,” Dean agreed.  He preened at Cas’s pride as it floated over to him.  They all sat by the small fire popping in Rufus’s fireplace, admiring the flickers and glow it cast on the walls and their lovers’ faces.

“In fact, we will all owe Meg deeply if we survive this.  She has put not only her own life, but the future of her kingdom in our hands.”

“And we kill two birds with one stone.”

“Ugh, clichés,” Gilda rolled her eyes.

“You got a better metaphor?” Dean questioned.

“How about you just say we get rid of the two greatest threats to Celeta with one attack, and then replace them with a friendly monarch?”

“That’s a mouthful,” Charlie laughed.

“I know,” Gilda raised her eyebrows and smirked, to which Charlie made a squeaking noise and giggled nervously.

“Whenever you two are done,” Dean said in a bored tone.  He could really care less about the kingdom, which was probably a bad thing, seeing as he was a king; but all he cared about was getting Sammy out if he was still alive.  And Baby was his second priority.  Then it was Meg and Charlie and Cas and Gilda, and the after that, it was the kingdom.  Yeah, that was a pretty accurate way of listing it, he decided.  Cas gave a mental nudge of approval, although he had Baby and the others all switched.  Shrugging, Dean brushed it off and opened his mouth again.

“Also she has a magic blade.”

“The First Blade is extremely dangerous,” elaborated Cas.  “Under no circumstances are you to let her cut you with it.”

“What does it do?”

“We don’t know.  What we do know is that it was forged from the jaw of a dragon by the first general of Dema.”

“Cain?” Charlie’s jaw dropped.

“Unfortunately.  That’s why we need to be careful.”

“And we’re going to kill Abaddon by just shoving any old thing into her?  Like my dagger?”

“Cas did some research-”

“Because someone was too busy messing about in the baths,” Cas interrupted.

“Shut up Cas, I’m talking- He did some research and found that Abaddon is probably keeping the first blade to keep herself alive and that by anointing a blade in fairy blood, we can kill her.”

“Right,” Gilda stood and conjured a small glass vial.  “Let’s get this over with.”  The vial turned bright red with her blood.  It hummed with her magic and both Dean and Cas found themselves in awe of the soft pink tendrils of magic that wafted out of the vial.  “Come on, we haven’t got all year,” the smug fairy goaded.  Cas shook his head and took the vial.  Pouring on each of their weapons, from Dean’s broadsword and dagger to Charlie’s rapier and throwing knives, Cas quietly inlaid blessings into the steel.  Balance for Charlie, luck for Dean, speed for Gilda.  As it was, Gilda anointed her silver wand which was surprisingly sharp.  Cas even had some spare arrow heads blessed and coated in ruddy thick liquid.

It took a long time to reach the wall of Dema.  They managed to avoid the creatures lurking in the trees and grass and caves thanks to Cas’s hyperawareness of every living thing.  But the weaving paths and circling routes had them take ate up their time.  More than once Cas had to call Meg and have her stall the coup.  She was always slightly annoyed and obnoxiously suggestive.  But they eventually made it to the wall.  It was sadder than Dean remembered.

Crevices where stones had fallen made the wall look hollow and weak, like a simple touch might be enough to knock the whole thing down around the city.  There was terrible weathering along the top as well.  Cas and Dean both sighed.  As Cas put his hand to the wall, it opened up before him, just as Meg had told them it would.  They all guided their horses through the hole and quickly threw rags over their heads and shoulders.  They’d be able to pass as merchants or rich farmers in this get up.  As they slowly rode their horses through the farm lands, a few peasants stopped clawing at the ground to give them a quick glance.  Dean shuddered at their condition.

“What bothers you, Dean?” Cas’s voice echoed.  Damn, Dean needed to learn how to keep his feelings in his own head.  He could feel Cas mentally laugh at the thought.  “I like knowing what you’re thinking; it’s especially fascinating when you’re dreaming.”

“Shit you can see my dreams?”

“Among other things.  What is bothering you?”

“Is Meg going to help these people?  When she gets the throne?”  Cas’s felling grew serious once more.

“I do not know.  But I know that she will be a better ruler than either Crowley or Abaddon.  She is our best hope for a friendly and prosperous Dema.”

Dean sighed and nodded.  He knew that Crowley was obviously a despotic ruler, and from what he’d heard and read of Abaddon, she’d be even worse: militant and ruthless, with no care for the consequences of her actions.  At least Meg had been able to show she cared about more than herself.

Once they reached the shambles of the market place, they had to be more careful.  Granted the royal guards seemed more interested in the prostitutes on the corners, there was still a chance that they might be recognized.  Soon after they reached the sad homes of the wealthy, they dismounted their horses.  They would attract too much attention if they went any farther.  Then they were supposed to meet Meg at the royal spinner’s home.  Cas apparently knew where that was, but it still took them a long time to find it.  The home was made of sagging wood and held in place with stones.  There were no windows, and upon entering, Dean saw that there were no rooms either.  Only a bed, an empty water basin and a large spinning wheel.

On the bed, there lay a girl with golden hair and perfect skin.  Had Dean not been a taken man, he might have called her beautiful.  He felt Cas’s approval at his assessment trickled through his mind and thrum throughout his body.  Charlie rushed over to the bed and went to check her airways.  The girl jumped and smacked her forehead against Charlie’s

“Shit!” they both yelped.  Dean laughed when they groaned in tandem and  rubbed their foreheads.

“Who are you?” Cas demanded.

“Ugh, My name’s Jeska.  I’m Meg’s lady.  She got bored and had me wait in your place.”

“We’re only a day and a half late,” Dean pointed out.

“She doesn’t have much patience,” Jeska threw back.

Cas nodded and approached her.  “Tell us what you know, if you would,” he kindly demanded.

“Your brothers are alive,” she started.  Dean let out a huge sigh of relief.  She glanced at him with a deep sadness and regret clouding her eyes.  “But they are not the way you remember them.  They have changed, and they will need time to recover from the torture.  Their minds have turned wild.”

“As long as Sammy’s alive, there’s a reason to be here.  I wouldn’t care if he was missing an arm or leg or eye,” Dean told her.

“He’s lost all of those and more.  You must be Dean, then.”  She stood and took both his hands in hers.  “I promise you will see him again.  And if all goes well, you’ll take him home as well.”

“Take us to Meg, please,” Cas asked.  Charlie and Gilda stopped fussing over the lingering pain in Charlie’s forehead and followed the party out.

Dean leaned over to his husband.  “She’s not leading us into a trap, is she?”

“Her words have been truthful so far.  Her mind is pure and her loyalty to Meg is strong.  Her concern for your brother is real as well.  She wants us to succeed.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Jeska led them through the castle grounds stealthily.  They all hid behind low trees or fallen gargoyles as the guards passed by.  When they reached the door to the servants’ quarters, Jeska entered first to make sure there was no one else there.  Then she led them through the secret passages meant only for the servants and stepped carefully into Meg’s chambers.

“Your Highness, the Celetans are here.”

“Oh good,” Meg’s voice called to them.  “Bring them to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not good. This was possibly the worst thing that could have ever happened. Dean’s mind flashed through every time Sam had been forced away from him. The time he’d been stabbed, the time he’d thrown himself into the Cage, when the broken wall in his head made him crazy. This had to be worse. Of course it was worse; their lives only ever took turns for hell. It was getting harder to bounce back. Dean hauled his rambling brother into the back seat of the Impala and set him down with as much care as possible. Unfortunately, Dean’s arms were shaking with anxiety and fear and exhaustion. He sent up a silent prayer to Cas, even though he figured it would go unheard. After that light show? Something had gone very wrong in heaven. Dean slammed the door shut and hopped into the driver’s seat.  
> If he had shot out of that field any faster, he’s sure he would have lost control of the vehicle. His breath came in hurried heaves, like when he cried. There was no time for tears this time. Sammy was still barely awake, fighting for his own mind. He made strange word-like grunts and groans and every once in a while he’d cough wetly, like a lung was about to come up.  
> “You’re gonna be okay, Sammy. We’re gonna get you better.”  
> ~  
> Cas had been walking for a very long time. At least that’s what it felt like. He wasn’t sure. The whole human concept of time was very strange. The sensation of forgetting was odd, in his opinion. He forgot silly things like what day it was. Odd, that was the word. He could remember remembering earlier, but couldn’t actually remember what he’d forgotten. Oh, it was all so confusing. Maybe that was the word he was looking for. Confusing.  
> And that was another thing he was still struggling with. As an angel, sensations were pure. He was angry or content, confused or superior. Now it mixed and mussed him up. He had trouble articulating. Rather he had more trouble than usual, mostly because he didn’t even know the words to label his feelings. He’d open his mouth and find that the words he’d held a second ago had flown off into the sky where he could no longer follow.  
> The first two nights on his way to Lebanon, he spent under a freeway with a man named Timothy. Tim was kind, but also unpredictable. Cas wished he could cure the poor man of his schizophrenia, but he knew it would be useless. The third night he met a prostitute named Crystal Rose. Cas didn’t think it was her real name, but he called her that anyway. She’d come on to him at first, but when he drew his eyebrows together and asked if she had children, she backed off.  
> “You look like you need a place to stay. These streets aren’t too kind to strangers. Just let me talk to Jose.”  
> “Who is Jose?”  
> “My boss.”  
> “Alright.”  
> Five minutes later and he was walking with her to her shanty apartment with two leaks in the ceiling and a stove with only one working burner. There was the distinct smell of fish and children. At first, Cas almost gagged, but when the two boys ran out to catch their mother around the waist, he forgot it. Maybe forgetting was something he could learn to deal with. He slept on the musty couch. He didn’t know how he felt about sleeping yet. The first two nights outside had been rough, and he wondered if sleeping indoors would make it any easier. He hadn’t had any dreams yet. That concerned a little. He wondered if he was even really sleeping. Whenever he woke up, it seemed as though he’d never been asleep, save the grogginess around his eyes.  
> He left early the next morning with a note written in Spanish. He felt like if he didn’t practice, he’d forget.  
> ‘Thank you so much for your couch. I will not forget your kindness and wish you the best.’  
> He knew it wasn’t much, but he had no money and nothing to offer. He started out from her apartment early that morning and hit a highway by lunch time. With his thumb sticking out in the air, he walked down the hot asphalt praying for any mode of transportation. Ironic, wasn’t it?
> 
> Please remember that this is a draft and has not been beta'd. It is subject to change. The other option will be posted tomorrow with the next chapter.


	43. The First Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You…” Abaddon stepped over Crowley’s body, stepping in his blood with a soft squelch. “You thought that a pretty face and a set of open legs would trick me, didn’t you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! The second option for my summer fic is an A/B/O universe set in the Wild West. Cas would be a sheriff and Dean would be a bit of a floozy working in Ellen's tavern/brothel. You know fun stuff. It would be pretty explicit, in terms of gunslinging and smut. It would be shorter that the season 9 rewrite but more porn so fun fun fun! It'd probably be about 60,000-75,000 words with 5 chapters. It would start the second week of June. There are still a few things I'll have to discuss with my beta, but there would be a little room for reader suggestion, but not much. See the end notes for a small sample of the writing style UwU

“Abaddon should be attacking Crowley any moment now.”

“And what we just wait here?” Dean couldn’t believe he was stuck in a room while the fight was starting.

“Of course we’re going to wait here,” Meg scoffed.  “I don’t want to have anything to do with the initial coup de Cow.  We have to wait for Abaddon to “grant concessions” out of the kindness of that black hole she calls a heart.”

“I was under the impression that we were going to storm in and take out whoever stood in our way.  Obviously I was misled,” Dean glared as Cas, but his husband only shrugged.

“That was the original plan, yes.  But this is more convenient for me.”

“Oh, well, thank god!” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean, Meg is doing us a great service,” Cas reminded him.  Dean blew out a long breath, then threw his hands up.

“Fine.  We’ll wait.”  Dean plopped himself onto the bed next to Charlie.  He looked around the room and sighed.  Meg rolled her eyes and sat at her vanity.  Jeska was immediately by her side and holding brushes out to her.  “So we’re waiting for the signal to go in and attack and you’re brushing your hair?  Don’t you think you should be, I don’t know, preparing for battle?”

Both Meg and Jeska began laughing.  Meg turned in her seat to face him.  He hated how at home that smug grin looked on her face.  “Oh sweetheart,” she drawled, “I’m not fighting.  That’s what you’re here for.  Besides, I have to look good for my coronation.”  As if to bother Dean even more, she flipped her hair and faced her mirror again.  Jeska went right back to brushing through the reddish-brown curls.  Dean looked to his husband, but Cas just shrugged again.  He told Dean “that’s just how she’s always been,” through their connection.  Dean groaned and fell backwards into the soft bed sheets.

A blood curdling scream pierced the silence.  Cas’s attention snapped to the closed door.  A faint roar seemed to rise up like a wave in the distance.  Dean had heard battle cries like that only a few times when taking on extremely large nests of vampires.  It was terrifying then, but now, not knowing what was going on down the halls in the throne room was just as frightening, if not more so.  He glanced at Meg and Jeska, but they went about their business as if nothing had happened.  Dean and Cas exchanged nervous looks and uneasy feelings.  Charlie and Gilda sat up from their short cuddle session on Meg’s bed.  Charlie even went so far as opening the door to see if the fight was coming towards them.

“Hey, shut that door!  It’s not our turn yet!” Meg hollered at her. Charlie shut the door and began pacing instead.

“What are we going to do?  Is there a signal?  Am I really going to have to fight?”

“You came here thinking you wouldn’t have to fight?” Jeska asked.

“Well,” Charlie laughed nervously, “It’s all good and fine when we’re just talking about it, but I get a little antsy when it comes time to actually fight, you know?”

“Oh, makes sense I suppose.”

“Just know that there’s no way we can fail,” Meg tried to calm her down.  “Not with Cas and Gilda.”

“That’s right, Char,” added Gilda.  “We’ll take care of Abaddon, and no one else will have to die.”

Dean glanced at Cas when he felt a pang of guilt.  _“Why are you lying to her?”_

_“Would you rather tell her the truth?”_

_“The truth?”_

_“We don’t know how to kill Abaddon.”_

_“But the knives…”_

_“Speculation from the research.  She’s still alive, so obviously any attempts to kill her have failed.”_

“ _So we’re going in_ hoping _that we’ll be able to kill her?”_   So all those times Cas had asked him if he understood the plan, he should have said he didn’t.  This was suicide. _“If you’d told me about this we could have planned it better.”_

 _“I did tell you about it_ ,” Cas mentally sighed, _“But I don’t think you were listening, like usual_.”  A small warmth leaked into Dean’s mind, like his inability to focus on Cas’s words rather than his lips was endearing.  He smiled and leaned into Cas’s side.  Charlie was still pacing.

_“Damn.  That means I didn’t get to give you the whole “last night on earth” spiel last night.”_

_“Then let’s hope it wasn’t our last night.”_   The roar grew ever closer, echoing past the solid wooden door.  Charlie jumped at the resurgence of the shrieking, but Gilda put a calming hand on her hip and pulled her back onto the bed. 

_“Does Gilda know?”_

_“Yes.  So does Meg.  I’m not sure about Jeska.”_

Everything stood silent once more.  The cries and shouts of battle faded, but the itchiness under Dean’s skin did not.  It had been so long since he’d fought, really fought, that he was beginning to shake with nerves.

“Well, it seems the coup was successful,” Meg said as she stood.

“What?” Charlie jumped up off the bed again.

“It’s show time,” grinned Meg.

~

Abaddon stood over Crowley’s limp body.  It was impossible to see where her hair ended with all the red blood shinning on her back.  Her chain and leather armor made her figure stand out against her few heavily armored men and women.  She had nothing to fear.  She was invincible.  There were other bodies lying about the great hall, but Meg’s eyes went directly to her step-father.  He wasn’t moving.  But he might still be alive.  Knowing the fat old bastard, he was just playing dead; he’d bide his time until he could catch Abaddon off guard and fend her off.  Maybe.  What mattered was destroying Abaddon now.

Dean, Cas, Gilda, and Charlie all waited back in a connected corridor, each armed with their useless weapons.  Meg knew what would kill Abaddon.  Jessy did too.  Little old Abby had let it slip one night after a few drinks and a few rounds in bed with Jeska.  That girl was golden, and if she ever chose to leave, Meg would be hard pressed to find anyone like her.

“I see you managed to hold up your end of the bargain.”

Abaddon turned her head to peer over her shoulder at Meg.  Her hand tightened on her bone blade.  Her smile made Meg shiver.  Jeska stood firm behind her.

“Why is there an angel here?”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is an angel nearby.  The one you were supposed to marry, I believe.  Why is he here?”

“They’re arranging for Princess Meg’s departure.  She will be leaving with His Majesty Castiel as soon as the throne is secure.”

“You…” Abaddon stepped over Crowley’s body, stepping in his blood with a soft squelch.  “You thought that a pretty face and a set of open legs would trick me, didn’t you?”  She threw her head back in a cackle.  “So predictable, you two.  I expected better.”  She shook her head.  “Angel face, bring your hunter out to play why don’t you?  And little miss Twinkle-toes your thief!  Come on out!”

Cas looked to Dean with wide eyes.  Panic flooded their minds; it was difficult to say whose was whose with the way their emotions swing back and forth between them.  Dean shook his head vigorously.  He was right in a sense.  They were safer if they didn’t engage in the conflict.  But Cas couldn’t just leave Meg out there.  He strolled out of hiding, Dean reluctantly following him.

“Abaddon, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“I’d say the same to you, Castiel, if I didn’t know your intentions.”  She stepped forward and held her blade in front of her.  The tension in the air was palpable.  It was a physical thing that Cas could feel pushing and pulling in his blood.

Until Charlie and Gilda flashed into existence beside her.  Charlie, with more anger than Cas or Dean had ever seen, brought the butt of her rapier down on Abaddon’s head.  Gilda gripped the knight’s wrist in a crushing hold and snatched the blade from her strong hand.  In doing so, some of the teeth caught on the webbing between her thumb and forefinger.  Abaddon crumpled to the ground with a roar.  She scrabbled at the stone floor with her long blood-coated nails.

“How dare you!” she shrieked.  Her eyes grew black and she roared into the space.  “I am the queen of this kingdom and I will not be denied!”  Her clawed fingers snatched and caught Gilda’s ankle.  Jumping into the fray, Jeska caught the blade as Gilda fell to the floor, ankle caught in Abaddon’s vice-like hand.  Charlie was doing her best to pull Abaddon off her fairy.  Abaddon was scratching and clawing and punching, and poor Gilda received the worst of it.

Cas and Dean sat shocked still.  This was all happening too fast for them.  Dean could have sworn he’d imagined the past five seconds, because in reality, that was how long this had taken.  Cas sprang into action, pulling Jeska out of Abaddon’s limited reach and screamed at Dean to do the same with Gilda and Charlie.

“Get your hands off her you piece of shit!” Charlie screamed.  Gilda exploded in a puff of shimmering motes and yellow light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas squinted in the sun that beat down on the Kansas town. He had no idea what he was doing here. No, he had an idea, but it was a darned stupid one that his brother had forced on him. He could still remember sitting across the desk from his brother Gabriel, in his own home, getting told that he needed to come out of retirement.  
> “You were a sheriff for six years and then you just quit! You were making more money than most lieutenants I see!” Gabriel, as a commander in the army obviously knew what he was talking about, but the opportunity just hadn’t interested Castiel at the time. “And you’d be making double that in half the year out west!”  
> “Somehow I think you might be exaggerating that.”  
> “I’m not! The army’s looking for good cops and sheriffs to send that way, and they’ve even promised a train ride over to the stations and a percentage of any loot you might confiscate. That’s a hell of a deal, Cassie.”  
> “I told you not to call me that,” Castiel warned.  
> “Only when we’re in public,” Gabriel threw right back.  
> “And I’m not particularly interested in money or gold or any of that greed-inducing stuff. I was sheriff of New York for six years! I got my pay and I let someone else take the burden. I have everything I need. My home is here. My family’s here.”  
> “What family?” Gabe laughed, “You mean me and Michael? Isn’t it time you found a nice omega to settle down with?” Cas snorted rather immodestly at that.  
> “There’s not an omega in the country that would want me.”  
> “Exactly! That’s why I’m telling you to go out west! To the Kansas Territory!”  
> “I don’t know, Gabe,” Cas shuffled some papers around on his desk and glanced to the side out the window. It was spring, and the flowers in his garden were just starting to poke through their new greenery. “I can’t just pick up and leave all this on some half-witted scheme to get myself hitched. I’m staying here. Home.”  
> Gabriel rolled his eyes and picked up his military coat. Cas had to admit that its brass buttons and shining hand embroidered emblems did look mighty fine in the spring light. And there was a small pang of longing for his old dust blue uniform. He swallowed the thought and kept telling himself otherwise.  
> “Besides, there’s some right ungodly things happening in the territories, what with the south and such.”  
> Gabriel turned to him and set his eyes dead on Castiel’s. He breathed out and said slowly, “Don’t you think I know that? Why in the hell would I ask you to go out there otherwise?”  
> The look in his eyes was what made Castiel think it over. It’s true he wasn’t getting any younger, and meeting a nice beta or omega to start a family with would be nice, but the idea that there were things Gabriel would act seriously for meant it was deadly. Three days later, Castiel went to see his brother at the commissioner’s office and accepted the job offer.  
> Alright, so maybe Castiel wasn’t out here for some stupid reason. That didn’t mean he had to like it. In fact, he was starting his preliminary round with what he predicted would be the most troublesome point of his new job. As he looked up at the sign, Harvelle’s Roadhouse: Saloon, Hostel, and Slickery, Castiel took a whiff of the dry late-spring air and touched his badge, just to make sure it was still there.  
> This place was obviously a whore house, if the bright colors and relative lack of horses meant anything. Not to mention the stench of sex and omega. If he had to guess, there were probably about eight to twelve omegas living under that roof, and at least one beta. The only alphas were guests only, and their scent was old, stale compared to what he could smell of the omegas. He glanced around the dead street and stepped up onto the porch. He felt his blood quicken as he pushed the door in. A wave of scent more incredible than he’d ever experienced washed over him immediately.
> 
> I'm going to stop voting/suggestion making/questions about both AU's on June 7th. So if you have something to say, just send me a quick message! <3


	44. Golden Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She killed herself! She killed herself for a kingdom that had her locked away for years! Why did she do that! How could she leave me alone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of have a job now. I'm a hostess at a really nice restaurant, so I'm standing from 3 to 10pm, and my feet are killing me!! Ugh, but I'm getting paid, so I can't really complain. So anyhow, this fic is almost done! Hooray! But also not hooray because this was a fun AU. D: So I can't deny that I'll miss it, but at the same time it's kind of a relief, you know? So enjoy the penultimate chapter! (Who the hell says "penultimate"?!)

When the air cleared and the glowing dust of Gilda’s essence settled, the scene was much different than before.  Meg stood behind Jeska who held the First Blade; Charlie had Abaddon restrained, arms cinched behind her back.  The knight twitched and struggled against Charlie’s hold, but to no avail.

“Go ahead and try, sweetheart.  We came prepared.”  Charlie tightened her grip.  “Devil’s trap gloves, bitch.  No smoking out, no escaping.  You’re dead.”

Abaddon screamed and tried desperately to empty out of her vessel.  Dean and Cas stood next to each other, hand in hand.  Both shared a strange mix of guilt and satisfaction at how this botched plan had unfolded.  They should have been more involved.  They’d done little more than serve as a distraction, but at the same time, it seemed fitting that Meg and Jeska handle the deed since it was their kingdom Abaddon threatened.  Jeska looked to Meg cautiously.

“It’ll work, right?”

“It should.  The First Blade anointed in the blood of a fairy.”  Abaddon’s renewed struggle added weight to their assumptions.  Jeska offered the blade to her Princess, but Meg gently pushed her hand back.  “You deserve this.  Finish it.”  Jeska nodded and swallowed loud enough that Dean and Cas could hear it.

Abaddon laughed.  “Oh sending the whore to do your dirty work?  You’re slimier than I gave you credit for Meggy.  Go ahead bitch!  Try and kill the unkillable!  You don’t have the darkness in you.  You’ll never be able to do it.”  The demon snarled and cackled from within Charlie’s grip.  Jeska readjusted her grip on the blade in a way that told Dean she was experienced.

“Surprise,” Jeska hissed back.  “Only light can extinguish dark.  I’m doing this for Sam and all the others you’d have killed!”  Then she raised the knife.

There was a strident shriek as the knife flew down and pierced Abaddon in the stomach.  There was no hesitation, no sign of regret, and no chance Abaddon would survive.  The demon’s eyes clouded over and a strange sort of energy sparked and exploded under her skin.  The screeching faded into silence as Jeska let go of the blade and Charlie let go of the body.

It was Charlie’s turn to cry out next.  She fell to her knees behind Abaddon’s body and wailed out in loss.  And then Meg screamed.  Cas raced over to Crowley’s body where he could see a dark cloud of a soul, or rather what was left of a soul, swirling around.  There was no way he could let that evil take residence in the ex-king’s body.  Meg raced over as well.  This was impossible.  Crowley was a dead man.  But they were too late.  The old king sputtered and hacked himself back to life.

“Don’t you bloody touch me, you spawn of a pig!” he hoarsely coughed at them.  He began trying to gather his magic within him, and there had to be a way to stop that, so Cas used as much of his grace as he could to place blocks within Crowley’s body.  A thought of Dean’s made its way into his head,  and Cas couldn’t help but think it was brilliant.

“How in the name of hell and this kingdom are you still alive, cow?”  Meg began kicking him, stepping on him with her sharp shoes.  “You were dead!  We saw it! Abaddon killed you!”

“Oh, poor dull Meg.”  Crowley tried to sit up, but Meg’s foot on his chest kept him down.  “What you think I keep all my soul in this old body?  I’m not an idiot!  I knew there were plots!”

“Well, unfortunately,” Cas rumbled using both his human and real voice, “Any more attempts at reincarnation or revival will be fruitless.”  And with a touch, Castiel engraved devil’s trap upon devil’s trap on Crowley’s ribs.  “No more magic, no more soul splitting, no leaving your vessel.  You are a man now.  And you will be punished as such.”  Crowley laughed in his face, but when he tried to gather some of his power, it would not come.  His brow went slack in utter and complete fear.

~

Dean rushed to Charlie’s side.  Jeska pulled the weeping girl to her chest.  Poor Charlie tried desperately to hide her tears, but ended up wailing into Jeska’s shoulder.  Although hurt badly by Gilda’s death and Charlie’s distress, Dean could not help but find beauty in the gold power left coating the floor like dust.

“She killed herself!  She killed herself for a kingdom that had her locked away for years!  Why did she do that!  How could she leave me alone!”

“Charlie!  Charlie!”  Dean tried to calm her down with a hand on her back, but she just gripped Jeska harder and shook more violently.  “Breathe!  You’re not alone.  We’re here for you.”  The stench of dead bodies and blood in the room was beginning to make Dean sick.  He wanted to be out of here as quickly as possible and to wherever Sammy was.  But that didn’t mean he’d leave his friend crying and hopeless.

“I can’t leave her here,” Charlie finally looked up from Jeska’s embrace.  “I can’t leave her in this place.  She’d never forgive me.”  So Charlie began gathering the sparkling remains of Gilda’s essence into a pile.  It was a rather sad gesture, considering the entire room was coated in a thin veneer of fairy dust.  But neither Dean nor Jes said anything to stop her.  She brushed as much of the pile into her hand as she could, but started shaking again.

“I just want her back!  She can’t be dead!  All I want is her to come back!”  Her tears fell into the glittering pile.  Her shaking hands and racking sobs caused a cloud of dust to fly out of her hands.  Dean was about to try and comfort her again when the dust cloud caught his eye.

“Charlie, Charlie, look,” he whispered.  The cloud began spinning, sucking up all the bits and motes that had flown over the room.  A small shining tornado drew everyone’s attention.  Cas, Crowley, and even Meg froze in their spots as the swirling mass began to take shape and emit light.  There was a great flash and a silent roar and then silence.  And there, among the bloodied bodies of Dema’s fallen, stood a girl with deep tan skin and flowing brown hair.  She was unclothed, but no one seemed to notice that as she opened her eyes and let out a soft sigh.

“G-gilda!” Charlie was the first to scramble out of her trance.  She almost fell on her sprint, but she managed to throw herself into Gilda’s arms and share a sweeping and full kiss.  “You’re alive!” Charlie said joyously through her tears.  “How are you alive?”

Gilda laughed and rested her forehead against Charlie’s.  “All those who help a fairy in need receive one wish.  As I recall, you never used yours.”  Charlie laughed too, but with tears streaming down her face.

“Best wish ever.”

“As much as I love watching a naked fairy and an annoying red-head go at it, this is getting a little too gooey for my liking,” Crowley sneered.

“Good thing we don’t give a shit about your opinion, isn’t it?”  Meg said with fake sweetness dripping off her voice.  She clenched her fist and Crowley doubled over in Cas’s hold.  He moaned in pain.  Smiling, Meg ascended to the throne nonchalantly and sat down with crossed arms.  “My first decree as Queen of Dema is that the cow be placed in a cell in the zoo.”

“You sodding idiot, the menagerie is full!” Crowley still fought against Castiel’s supernatural strength.

“Oh my, you’re right,” Meg smirked.  “Then I’ll just have to free one of those cells up, now won’t I?  And as a reward for the Celetans for helping me achieve my new status, I’ll let them choose which cell to vacate.  Jessy, if you’ll show them?”

“Of course my queen.”

“And get the fairy some clothes, would you?  As beautiful as she is, we can’t go about distracting the staff, now can we?”

“Of course,” Jes grinned up at her new queen.

So once Gilda was dressed, Jeska led them to the place Dean remembered from three years ago.  The ominous door still had that terrible aura around it, but there was little it could do to hold Dean back from finding his brother.  They entered in a single file behind Jeska, Cas holding Crowley’s new chain.  She held a bright torch ahead of her; the darkness parted before them.  The creatures and beasts lining the walls wailed at them, some reaching out through their bars.  They finally came close to the last cell, but Jeska stopped and gave them all an uncertain look.

“The boys may be very different from how you remember.”

“I don’t care,” was Dean’s immediate answer.  “Sam is still my brother.”  The smile Jes gave him was sad, but hopeful.  She approached the cell and called softly.

“I have a surprise for you,” she whispered through the iron bars.  “Please come towards the light.” There was the sound of grunting and shuffling, and them a face emerged from the darkness.  His hair was patchy and thin, and his beard was uneven, not to mention the scars all over his arms, but Sam was still recognizable.  Dean felt his heart soar and drop at the exact same time.

“Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, also, I'm gonna start dumping extra info about this AU that didn't make it into the fic and some mega meta in the notes.   
>  Like the fact that Baby had a 67 branded into her flank because she was the 67th horse John foaled. Also, John usually sold the horses once they were trained and grown, but Baby's mother died giving birth, so John had to take care of her and got too attached to sell her. UwU  
> And During the time that Cas was using James as his alias and bleeding out of his shoulder, Dean was supposed to say "Damnit Jim I'm a hunter, not a doctor!" In tribute to Star Trek because Star Trek is important to me, and I feel like even in an AU, Dean would still make pop culture references. Even if he didn't know he was making them. But I kind of forgot, and I'm kicking myself now for not including it.  
> So yeah, more fun facts to come tomorrow for the finale! And at the moment, I only have one vote for my next fic. So reminder! If let me know if you want either a s9 re-write or an A/B/O Wild West AU! ;P


	45. Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeska quickly locked the cell door and turned to follow, still holding Sam against her shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just wanna give a huge thank you to everyone who has read this fic. Whether it was one chapter or all of them, whether you commented or bookmarked or gave kudos, or didn't do any of that, I am so grateful to everyone who took time to even look at a word of this. I did not expect the flood of comments and kudos I received, and let me say that every bit of support from you guys made me curl up and squeal like in idiot because wow you all are so great! Thank you so much. Really.  
> I wanna give a special shout out to My Gem who's been a huge supporter and given me ideas I hadn't even thought of. Another shout out to happypancreas and redmasque as well, because you guys have been big helps and fun to talk to <3
> 
> Anyway, here's the finale! Hope you all enjoy!

Things after that moment were slow and blurred.  Dean could remember what happened, but it was strange, as if there was a veil over his mind.  Cas’s feelings were purer and more distinguishable than his own, and it scared Dean.  Sam collapsed into his arms once Jes unlocked the cell door.  Lucifer crawled out next, dragging Michael’s whimpering form after him.  Cas, after making sure Dean could take care of Sam’s sobbing body, took his brothers into an embrace.  Dean watched in awe and surprise.

Before Dean knew what was happening, Jes was taking Sam from him and wrapping him in her cloak.  Dean couldn’t even move, only watch with his arms held out.  There as a small surge in Dean’s head as Cas used his grace to heal his brothers.  He intended to heal Sam next, but Crowley growled and began pulling against the chains Cas had passed off to Gilda.  Gilda yanked them back.

“Let go of me you disgusting piece of filth!  I am a king!”

“And a piss poor one at that,” Cas growled back.  “Take it from someone who actually cares about his kingdom.”

With a nod to Gilda, Cas let her know she could exact her revenge.  She shoved him much harder than her small frame should have allowed, and he stumbled into the cell.  The chain around his neck clattered noisily, covering his protests.

“The prisoner has been secured,” Gilda hissed out at their party.  “We have no more business here.”

And with that quiet comment, she turned on her heel and began walking towards the exit.  Jeska quickly locked the cell door and turned to follow, still holding Sam against her shoulder.  Dean felt a heavy weight on his own side and realized Cas was handing him Michael.  The eldest prince looked haggard and exhausted, his eyes glazed over with more than sleepiness.  Charlie was hollering at them to hurry up from the other end of the hall.  Lucifer was draped over both of Cas’s shoulders like a yolk, and looked as awful as Sam and Michael, but he was speaking.  It was only mutters, but there were words Dean could pick out like “mistake,” and “sorry”.  They hurried as best they could with their new-found weights.  Crowley screamed at them to come back, damn it!  But they ignored him easily.  Finally catching up to the rest of their party, they slammed the door to the evil menagerie shut with a loud bang.

~

Cas didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky as to have Dean in his life.  He kept the thought hidden from his husband, mainly because he knew Dean would vehemently deny it and glare at him from his kneeling position.  At the moment, Dean was playfully joking with one of the farming children.  They made sure to take weekly rounds of their kingdom together, Cas on Ford and Dean on Baby.  It turned out that Cas was right; Baby was too good a horse for the Deman stable hands to just get rid of.  Apparently, the same went with Ford.  And funny enough, the Demans had studded Baby out to their best horses.  She’d had a filly, which Sam had named Mustang in his daze after getting out of the castle that night.  Cas sighed in his saddle as he watched Dean toss the girl into the air playfully.  He almost regretted their decision not to adopt, the way he felt Dean’s happiness on these quiet trips around the kingdom.

Baby’s other foal, a colt, now belonged to Charlie and Gilda who traversed the various kingdoms of the world.   They brought home all sorts of trinkets and souvenirs for the Kings and their dumb brothers.  The girls were due back from an Eastern kingdom in about a week, and Castiel looked forward to seeing them again.  Dean mounted Baby and tossed a quick smile back at his husband to let him know he was ready to head back to the castle.  And Cas knew it would be a race.  A race which he would inevitably loose.

Dean still insisted on taking care of Baby himself, even though the stable hands assured him it was unnecessary.  Dean maintained that Baby was a special horse and therefore needed special care.  Cas had given up that fight about a year and a half ago.  Meg would no doubt be calling them soon for more negotiations.  She was currently working on improving the Deman economy and the orphan exchange program.  Maybe Cas could convince Dean to adopt after all.  He certainly had a soft spot for abandoned children, and if they began accepting Deman orphans then Cas was sure he could probably drop enough hints…

Sam and Jeska had married about two years after they busted Sam, Michael, and Lucifer out of The Cage.  It hadn’t been much of a surprise, honestly.  The way Sam looked at her was almost so sweet it hurt, and the way she doted on him was undeniably cute.  They worked well together, with a trust that rivaled the trust Cas and Dean shared.  Even Dean admitted that it was impressive.  They’d had a child only a year ago, named Gildara after her godmothers.  Dean thought it was a little clichéd to give the child a fairy godmother, but Cas could sense that Dean was secretly happy that Gildara would have sufficient protection.  Meg had actually cried when Sam asked her to be the godmother.  It was strange, and at the time, dean hadn’t known she was capable of anything other than smug indifference.  Even Meg herself looked shocked at the water streaking down her cheeks.

Sam was a prince now too.  His brother was a king after all.  And that made Jeska a princess.  Not bad for a handmaid from Dema, she’d joke.  Dean and Cas were just happy that they’d been able to be happy.  It had taken Sam a long time to be able to talk about what happened to him in The Cage.  Cas could still remember the pang of hurt that pierced his chest when Sam pushed Dean away that first time.  Sam called for Lucifer of all people, not Dean, not even Jeska, which Dean would have probably accepted a little better.  But Lucifer appeared silently and demanded that they not be disturbed.

Nowadays, Lucifer and Sam could still be seen together, as very close friends.  It was impossible to discard a bond formed through such terrible times.  Dean found it within himself to forgive the two royal brothers for trying to kill Cas, but he still held reservations.  Michael would still make some inappropriate comments, usually on accident, but he was much less domineering after his awful ordeal.  He listened and wanted to compromise.  He became Cas’s most important adviser and devoted much of his free time to training as a soldier.

Ana remained much the same.  She enjoyed caring for her brothers and planning huge feasts for the less fortunate of the kingdom.  At least until Gabriel returned.  Then that became his job.  That day had been weird, and looking back at it, Cas should have expected Gabe, but he’d almost forgotten his lost brother in his streak of good fortune.

When Cas had woken up that morning, and Dean tried dressing him, they found that all their clothes had been shrunk to comically small sizes.  Dean had used it as an excuse for another round in bed, so Cas ignored it willingly.  But then the breakfast had been ruined when the chef used salt instead of sugar.  Cas chalked it up to craziness in the kitchen.  But then Dean had gone to the stable to tend Baby and found that all the hay in the stalls had been replaced with peppermint sticks.  And all the horses were overly excited.  That had tipped Cas off.  Something was obviously wrong, but it wasn’t until he walked into the throne room only to find Gabriel lounging in his throne that he really put it together.  It had been a great day, and Cas wept over his wayward brother’s return.  Ana demanded another celebration, and no one tried to stop her.

Cas had been so busy recalling and reviewing the last five years that he hadn’t realized how fast they’d been going.  The castle was already in sight, and Dean was skidding to a stop in front of the stables.  To Cas’s surprise, Dean handed the bridle to a hand instead of walking Baby into the stable himself.  Responding to Cas’s look of confusion, Dean tipped one side of his mouth up in a smirk and jerked his head back towards the castle.  Cas dismounted quickly, fumbling over Ford’s stirrups.

They made it to their bedroom in record time, Cas chasing his husband up spiral staircases and through echoing corridors.  They ran into some maids who tittered or giggled at the two kings’ enthusiasm.  As soon as their door was closed, Dean grinned evilly.

“You thought you were keeping those feelings to yourself, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cas kept his face neutral and clamped down on their bond to prevent anymore feelings to go through unintentionally.

“Oh you were thinking all sorts of silly sentimental things about me,” Dean grinned as he approached his husband.  “But I have to wonder if you’ll still be thinking those things when I’m plowing you into the mattress.”  The tone made Cas shiver and lean into Dean’s ever-present heat.  They made quick work of their clothing, even pulling their waist cinchers off with ease.  Dean had finally broken down and begun wearing one when Cas told him all his horseback riding was bruising his kidneys and the stiff support of a waist cincher would prevent that.  Cas couldn’t deny that it made him smile to remember how Dean had sighed and squirmed when Cas was showing him how to lace it up.  It had led to a very awkward but satisfying session of sex.

Dean had pushed his naked body back into the bed and nibbled his neck softly.  Cas sighed and let Dean have his way easily.  They’d found a dynamic that worked, and it usually involved Cas letting Dean control the foreplay and then taking control when it came time for the actual act of sex.  He could feel Dean’s hardness against his leg.  Sighing, he surged up to meet Dean’s lips.  This was all he could ask for.  It was everything he needed.

~  
 _“What happens after the end of the story?” Cas asked Anael one night.  It was a rainy night, but Cas liked the rain.  Ana had just finished his favorite story in the book of fairy tales, but Cas had been thinking about it recently._

_“What do you mean, Cassie?”_

_“The princes get married, but what next?  Do they find the Wanderer’s brother?  Where do they end up living?  Do they die?”_

_“That’s the best part about stories, Cas,” Ana smiled down at the dark-haired boy in her lap.  “You get to decide what_ Happily Ever After _means.”_

~

And they lived happily ever after.

 

Even Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha so I hope this has been an enjoyable journey for everyone. This is my first novel-sized fanfic, so I'm really excited now that it's all finished up. It's been a really long journey, spanning about nine months, no to mention the countless hours of planning and designing character outfits. It's been a labor of love. So without me rambling on anymore, fun facts!  
> Gareth, the gatekeeper is Garth, for those who didn't pick up on that.  
> Shoulders are an important symbol of trust and protection, exemplified by Cas's hand print on Dean's shoulder as well as Cas's original shoulder wound.  
> Kitchens are also woven into the story as a symbol of safety.  
> The number three is used often in this fic not only for the Catholic Holy Trinity, but also for Team Free Will.  
> Right is safety, Left is danger.  
> The marriage chapter is called "A Time of Great Distress"; Dean's prophecy states that "In a time of great distress he will marry his princess." The prophecy came true.  
> There's more, but I have to go to work, so I may add more later. Also, the A/B/O Wild West fic is leading by a land slide...


End file.
